Say What You Need to Say
by librawriter
Summary: A visit with George after Fred's funeral leaves Angelina worried about the other half of her best friend. She offers to stick around one night and help him rebuild his life, never knowing that their lives will become forever intertwined as a result.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: These are all J.K. Rowling's characters. I own nothing, this is just something I do for fun. Please read and review! More to come soon! _

Say What You Need to Say

Chapter 1

About two weeks after Fred's funeral, Angelina felt strong enough to go and visit George, the way she'd promised after the service.

"I'll stop by one of these days after work. We can watch a Muggle movie or something," Angelina had told George as the mourners crowd was making their way back to their cars, their broomsticks, their normal lives.

It didn't seem fair that for George and the rest of the Weasley's, life would never be normal again. It wouldn't be normal for her either, not with Fred gone.

"I'd like that," George told her, hugging her close. He had shed not one tear the entire service. Angelina knew because she'd been watching him, wanting to comfort him yet knowing he needed to be with his family more. Only Harry Potter and Hermione Granger sat with the Weasley family. George had just sat like a stone and occasionally rubbed his mother's shoulders when she became hysterical.

Now, riding the trolley into London and still dressed in her work clothes, the thought occurred to her that perhaps she should have sent an owl to let him know of her arrival. She excused the thought, noting that she hadn't been doing most things the way she should have since Fred had died.

Angelina had heard that Ron and Percy had been putting in most of the work at the shop, and that no one had seen George around, but she was fairly certain that he hadn't moved out of his flat, which was located just above the business. The twins had been so proud of the place, always boasting how they were living quite grand indeed for two boys who'd dropped out of school.

It was well after business hours when she got to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, all the lights out inside, save the neon green sign that flashed _Closed_. Angelina went around the building to the side door and knocked.

She waited for several long moments before she finally heard the turning of locks coming from inside. Then, the door opened.

"H-hello," Angelina stammered out in place of a gasp.

There was no other word to describe the way he looked except terrible. To be redheads, the Weasley's had surprisingly good coloring year round, but George was now very pale, and thin. He'd let his facial hair grow in, and it was wild looking, as if he'd been roaming over mountains. The rest of his hair was shaggy and disheveled. His clothes were dirty, for Merlin's sake. Angelina could see some sort of stain across the front. He didn't say anything, just looked blankly at her.

She cleared her throat, and took a step backwards. "This is a bad time, isn't it? I can come back–"

"No, no, come in," George told her, and held the door open.

When Angelina took her first look at the flat, she could only stare. It was in a right state. Dirty robes, old food containers, things Angelina couldn't even identify were strewn about. There was a horrific stench wafting throughout the place, like something was rotting. It took everything in her power not to plug her nose. Then she noticed the mound of blankets and a pillow on the couch, and her heart sank like a stone.

George was not sleeping in his room.

The room where, once, Fred would have been right across the hall.

"I'm sorry about all shite all over the place…here, let me get this out of the way," he muttered and grabbed a handful of things off the couch. Angelina watched him toss the pile to the floor near the back hallway.

"I should have owled you first to let you know I was coming. I didn't mean to disturb you. I'm sorry," she said.

"Rubbish, you didn't used to owl us before. You would just come. We didn't mind then, and I don't mind now. Don't be sorry," he told her.

Angelina sat down on the couch, and George sat down next to her. She didn't even know where to begin.

"You've grown a beard," she said with a gentle laugh, as she reached out to touch it.

"Oh, yes, it's just…it's nothing, really," he muttered.

She carefully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to calm herself from the sight before her, this stranger where it should have been one of her best friends. "How are you?" she asked him softly, though the answer was beyond evident.

He pulled at his beard. "I'm doing okay."

"That's good," Angelina said. He wouldn't look at her, and she wasn't sure if she should even be here. Maybe he was angry with her. Maybe she reminded him of Fred and she shouldn't have come because he wasn't ready to deal with her yet. Even still, that would make things awkward if she got up and left this soon. And really, she shouldn't feel awkward. It was obvious he needed her. Hell, he needed somebody to take care of him, because he wasn't doing it for himself.

"Have you been eating? Or sleeping?" she asked.

"Not really doing much of either," he said quietly. He sounded so sad. Angelina swallowed a huge lump in her throat as her vision blurred.

"Oh, _Georgie_," Angelina whispered. She shook her head, unable to speak for a second. It brought back a flood of memories, seeing him now, and it hit her like a bad spell that it was now just George. Fred wouldn't come bounding in from the back, laughing about something or other, harassing her to try some new potion he'd created that afternoon. Not ever again. Not ever again.

"I'm trying to be strong," she whispered, as tears fell over her cheeks. "I know we split up ages ago, but I never stopped caring about him. I miss him."

"Me, too," George said. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Angelina scooted closer to him, and hugged him. He held her close, and it felt nice, despite the fact that she could tell he hadn't bathed lately. She didn't care.

Finally, Angelina whispered, "George?"

"Hmm?"

"I think you should eat something."

"Yes, I know," he said, then, "I just can't find the strength to do anything anymore."

"I'll make you something. What do you want?" she asked him. She got up from the couch, kicking her heels off.

"I don't know," he answered. He lay back against the cushions and flicked his wand lazily at the Muggle television set. It came roaring to life and his eyes glazed over as he watched.

"Have you got anything in your refrigerator?" she asked him.

"I don't know, I haven't checked it in a few days," he said, unblinking as he watched the TV.

"I'll just check to see what you've got, then. Is that alright?"

He nodded. Angelina went into the kitchen, and almost gagged when she saw the residue from something disgusting in the sink. She wouldn't be able to cook a blasted thing in here until everything was clean.

She'd had an important meeting today, so she hadn't been dressed in her usual uniform that she wore when she was at the lab mixing potions and documenting results. It would have helped the job she was about to do if she'd at least had that one instead of her expensive dress and her pearl necklace. She tapped her hair with her wand, murmuring a quick spell to keep her hair tied into a knot off of her face and tried to decide where to start. She figured the counter on the left, since it was the messiest, and as she pointed her wand at it and sent the first cleaning spell to work, something yowled and came flying out at her. She shrieked in surprise as the small, black animal raced down the hall.

"Oi, George! You've got wild animals in here! Did you know that?" Angelina called to George, going back to the living area.

The small, black thing was a cat that had curled up on George's lap.

"What, Hestia? She showed up a few days ago. She keeps the gnomes away."

Gnomes? Things had gotten truly bad if gnomes had found their way into the flat. She didn't say anything else on the matter, just went back to the kitchen and set her wand to work. As the dishes polished themselves, and the stove did likewise, she poked around in the refrigerator. She saw enough ingredients to make some potato soup and saw that George was well supplied with butterbeer. She found two large bottles of fire whiskey in the cabinet as well. They were standing among four more empty bottles.

Close to an hour later, the kitchen was sparkling clean, all the rubbish and rotten food had been emptied to the bin, and the potato soup was ready.

George was still staring blankly at the television screen as his fingers stroked the fur of Hestia, who had fallen asleep.

"Accio, serving tray," Angelina said. George started, seeming to be more out of it than ever, as she put the food and a butterbeer down in front of him.

He stared at the soup, and she felt suddenly silly.

"It was the only thing I could make from what you had in there," Angelina said. "It doesn't look as rich as it should. Here, let me see what else I can do with it." She reached for the hot bowl, but his fingers grabbed at her wrist.

"No, Angelina, it looks fine. I'll have it," he said, letting her go. He picked up the spoon she'd set out for him and began to eat. Angelina flushed a little, then went to work cleaning up around the living area. She was surprised when she looked back after a few minutes to find his bowl empty.

"Did you eat that or get rid of it?" she asked incredulously.

George looked embarrassed. "Er, I ate it. I guess I was a little hungrier than I thought," he said. Angelina took the bowl and got more soup for him, filling it to the top.

"Thanks," he said as she handing it back to him. When he started eating again, she went back to work cleaning up around him. She had started to perspire, despite the help of magic, because there was so much that needed to be done. She was aware that he finished eating before she was done cleaning, and a few times, she'd caught him watching her, but he never said anything, and neither did she.

Finally, she had finished and even though she was exhausted, she was pleased that at least it looked more like the flat that she remembered from when she would visit.

"Fred was always the neat one," George said softly as he looked around. Hestia had stretched herself out onto her back, claws extending slightly. It was funny the things you noticed when you were trying to keep from breaking down.

"I can help you keep it clean, if you want," she said, fighting back tears.

"No, I need to learn how to take care of myself. I've got to learn how to be by myself," he said simply.

Angelina sat next to him on the couch, taking his hand. "It'll be hard for awhile. But you hang in there. You'll wake up one day and you'll be able to feel happiness again."

"I don't think I'll feel anything again," he said.

"Yes, you will," she said. She kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I put all your dirty clothes in that basket by the hall. You can wash them when you're ready."

"I don't wash clothes anymore. I don't do anything anymore," he sighed, leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes once more.

"Alright, then I will come here tomorrow and do it. If I have to check on you every day after work, I will. You'll just have to change the locks if you want me to stay out. But I'm not going to just let you waste away. We're too good of friends for me to allow that," she said. George said nothing, and Hestia was still asleep, so Angelina stood up.

"I'm going now. So I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said.

"See you," he replied, pulling the covers up around him.

"Don't smother Hestia," Angelina said smartly, yanking back the edge of the blanket that covered the small cat.

She reached into her bag and took out some Floo Powder, throwing it into the fireplace of his flat. She glanced back at George before she stepped in, but he hadn't moved from his place on the couch.

It suddenly hit her, as she looked at him, that it might not be safe to leave him alone. It bothered her, the sight of him laying about the couch like he was the one who was dead. She'd never seen George so detached. He'd always been so vibrant, so full of energy and jokes and laughter...

There was nothing alive about him now. Nothing at all.

Suppose he tried to do something harmful to himself? He had said that he didn't care about anything. She just couldn't bear even the thought of losing them both.

"Georgie? I'm going to get some things for work and come back here, maybe stay the night. What do you think about that?"

He didn't answer, just shrugged his shoulders, eyes still closed.

It was set, then. She stepped into the Floo, already making mental notes of the things that she needed to do. It wasn't like she could report her concerns to his family, as they had enough to deal with on their own. So many people had been killed at the final battle. There had been so much death, and now the living were the ones left to suffer.

Well, she wasn't going to let George suffer. Aside from Alicia, he was her best friend. She owed it to both him and Fred to bring him back from the edge, and by God, she would do it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Angelina sat on one of the benches outside the classrooms, halfway concealed by thick trees and bushes. It was a popular spot for sixth and seventh years who wanted to snog and such. Several couples were doing just that, and probably other things by the sounds Angelina could hear. She looked down at her hands, swallowing back tears as she accepted the fact that she wouldn't be doing that anymore since she and Fred had just parted ways. _

_She'd caught him with Helen Binghamton in an empty classroom, snogging her with his hand up her robes. After Melinda Partview a month ago, they'd had a big argument and he'd promised he wouldn't chase after any more girls…but then she'd found out about Julia Berkley, and Romilda Vane after her. Fred hooking up with Romilda was just plain insulting, as she was in Harry Potter's year. _

_Angelina sighed, and tried not to feel sad about it, but did anyway. She'd been so proud to be on his arm, the envy of most of the girls not just in their year, but in school period. He'd made such a spectacle of courting her, and how could she resist that Weasley charm? He was an excellent Quidditch player, charismatic and irresistible-- both of the twins were, in fact, and they'd been notorious ladies men since their first day at Hogwarts, it seemed; she shouldn't have been surprised that Fred simply could not resist temptation from his flock of ever adoring "fans". She'd just been one of many. _

"_Feel like some company? Or do you want my head on a platter as well?" _

_Angelina looked up at Fred's other half, offering him a small smile. "Sit down, you," she said. She scooted over as George dropped his tall, lanky body down next to her. _

"_I heard about the break up. I've come to offer my apologies for being a selfish, insufferable wanker on my brother's behalf," George said, and handed her a small stone. _

"_You giving me a rock, George?" Angelina said, raising her eyebrows. _

"_Don't you know me better after all these years? Blow on it," he said. _

_She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "It's not going to explode in my face, is it? Like the birthday present you gave me last year?" _

"_The catch there is that it's not your birthday. Go on, blow on it," he repeated, nudging her with his elbow. She gave him one more look of disdain, but followed his instructions. The stone quivered slightly for a second before slowly transforming into a beautiful bouquet of lavender colored lilacs– her favorite flower. _

_Angelina was stunned into silence for a moment, as she looked first at the pretty blossoms in her hand, then at George. "How did you know…"_

_George smiled, almost shyly and shrugged. "…that lilacs were your favorite? You mentioned it once during one of our classes. A Potions class, I think. Third year." _

_Angelina nodded, feeling almost light headed. She'd never received such a beautiful gift before, not even from Fred. She doubted that he even knew that lilacs were her favorite. _

"_Looks like I've been dating the wrong twin," she said with a short laugh. When George said nothing, looked away from her in fact, she realized in an instant that her statement was true. _

"_Well, um, thank you, George. They're lovely," she finally said, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. At that exact moment, he turned back towards her, so her mouth brushed against his on accident. _

"_Oh!" Angelina exclaimed in surprise, sitting up very straight. "I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I was…I was..."_

"_It's okay, I know, I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay with what happened and all…"_

_They were both flustered now, bumbling with clumsy apologies and too embarrassed to look each other in the face…._

Angelina woke from her sleeping bag on the floor of George's living room to a horrible crashing noise. She sat up with a start, looking around wildly in the darkness. As her eyes slowly came to focus, she saw that George was not on the couch. He'd been fast asleep by the time she'd returned to the flat by Floo.

She stood up, frightened and unsure of what was going on. Suddenly, there came another loud crash, along with a shout.

"George!" she screamed, and ran towards the back of the flat, where a light was on in Fred's old room.

"…am I supposed to go on without you? You son of a bitch, you bastard! You weren't supposed to leave me, not ever! You fucking arse! Nothing was to keep us apart! Why've you left me? Why? Why?" George was screaming.

Angelina clapped her hands over her mouth, rooted to the spot in horror as George obliterated everything in sight. His wand shot out red and green flame again and again, destroying the entire room, all of Fred's things. Every memory of him, gone, burned, charred.

Tears rolled over her face as she could only look at the now smoking room. Everything was in ruins. Everything had been shattered.

George dropped his wand, breathing heavily, then fell to his knees, and started to weep into his hands.

What should she do? Would he be angry that she had seen what he'd done? She was shaking all over, and he might yell and curse at her, but she took that chance as she went slowly into the room, and knelt beside him. She hesitated slightly before putting her arms around him. He grabbed her, pressing his face into the oversized night shirt she wore, his body going limp across her bare thighs. He sobbed, clutching the folds of her shirt tightly in his fists. She tried to think of comforting words to tell him, but couldn't think of anything that might possibly feel better. She was sure he'd heard enough people telling him how sorry they were. That wouldn't bring Fred back. She didn't know what else to do other than to hold him, and let him cry against her. She hoped it was enough.

After quite some time, George had stopped trembling against her. He sat up, covering his eyes with one hand. "Forgive me, Angelina," he whispered.

"It's alright," she said. She reached for his hand, taking it from his face so she could see him. "Come on," she said, standing up and helping him to his feet.

"Where?"

"Let's go to my flat. We'll stay there for a few days."

"I can't. It's the middle of the night. You've got work tomorrow, and I've got to clean this up," he said sadly.

"We'll do that later. Let's just go to my flat and try to get some rest," she said. Since he was still holding her hand, she led him from the destroyed room, and down the hallway. He stood watching as she gathered up her things for the second time that night, shoving them into her old Quidditch bag.

When she'd finished packing up, she spotted Hestia. "Don't forget her," she said. George picked up the kitten quietly, and Angelina hooked her arm with his. They side Apparated to her place.

Once there, George set down the cat, who scurried off to the first corner she saw, no doubt terrified by the experience of Apparation. George looked exhausted, and Angelina knew that she was, so she set to work charming her couch into a long, wide bed.

"I'd almost forgotten how talented you were at Transformation. That was never a class I paid much attention in," he muttered.

"I know, George. I was there," she said, and went to her linen closet to get an extra blanket and a pillow. George had already settled down on the couch by the time she returned.

She covered him with the blanket. "Try to sleep," she told him, sitting down on the edge of the couch-turned-bed. She smoothed some of his wild looking hair back. George reached up, taking her hand, and brought it to his face, holding it against his cheek. Something inside of her jumped, catching her off guard. What was he doing? What was going on? She blinked, trying to understand it all.

"I don't want to be alone," George whispered to her. His confession surprised her, but she didn't let it show. He needed her to be compliant right now. He needed her to be strong, and she could do that. She could that quite well.

"Scoot over then, Weasley. And no funny business," she said with a tiny smile, knowing he wouldn't. He lifted up the edge of the blanket and she lay down beside him. She charmed the flat lights off. Once they were beneath the covers, George slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

Though he was fully clothed, she was only wearing her oversized shirt and underwear. She and George had never come close to being intimate, despite the close friendship she'd shared with him over the years. Was this crossing the line? He could no doubt feel more of her body than he ever had before, and though she knew it was the last thing she should be thinking about, the feel of his strong arm about her waist sent shivers down her spine. It was wrong to feel anything sexual when it came to George; he was one of her best friends, and had always been. She couldn't do anything to change that, especially not now with Fred being gone.

She opened her mouth to object to him being so close to her, but then thought better of it.

_Compliance. Strength. Be there for him. He needs you. _

So Angelina reached down to hold his hand. Hestia decided it was safe to come out from her hiding place, and she settled herself near the top of their heads. The three of them slept for the remainder of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Angelina woke early for the second time that morning, but this time out of habit. She was always paranoid that she'd miss her alarm, and found she always woke at least an hour ahead of the steady buzzing of her little clock. It was pitch black outside, most likely meaning rain; the clock read just after six.

She'd thought that she would be uncomfortable squeezing up on the charmed out couch with George, but she'd actually slept well, the few hours that she _had_ slept. Angelina had felt very safe having him next to her. She certainly wasn't someone who was used to having overnight company, and though she was no virgin, her intimate experiences were few and far between. Sadly, not one of them had left her skirts blowing up. There were so many times that Angelina had spent wondering what in Merlin's name she was doing wrong as she listened to her friends or coworkers describe their steamy, sleepless nights with lovers. She'd never been able to add a story to theirs, and certainly wouldn't be able to do so these days, as she hadn't dated anyone even remotely serious in over a year.

She looked over her shoulder to see that George had rolled over, was snoring loudly. He'd pulled the blanket with him, leaving Angelina slightly chilly.

Angelina slipped out of bed, and hurried to her room, where her work clothes were laid out. She always laid her clothes out for the week because she had always been exceptionally organized. This trait helped in her field– creating potions and elixirs to cure common ailments among witches and wizards. A medicinal alchemist, if you would. She worked for Savior Potions Company, or SPC, and over the years, she'd been quite proud to watch the place grow in business and become renowned through the wizarding world.

Angelina could remember very well the teasing and taunts from friends when she'd first accepted the job upon graduation from Hogwarts.

"I can't believe you're going to work for that loon Mr. Boggains. What a bloody waste of a good brain," Fred had told her after graduation.

"He's a genius! He just needs a supportive team behind him, is all. He's an inventor. You of all people should appreciate the guts it takes to go off on your own and try and sell people what you've created!" Angelina had retorted.

Fred just laughed. "You're mental, Angelina," he'd said. "His piece of shite company will go up in flames up by next year and you'll be begging George and me for a job at Wheezes. I'll save you a spot."

"Piss off, Fred," she'd said, and shoved him.

Well, Fred certainly had been eating his words after a year. Mr. Boggains took a liking to Angelina, and in many ways, served as her mentor. He was brilliant, as she'd said, but could be careless and was also easily frazzled. Angelina was determined and orderly, and there had been more times than one when she'd persevered through the night on a formula Mr. Boggains had begun, but grown flustered with and abandoned. By morning light, she'd found a way to make the formula work.

"Oh, clever, clever, Angelina! You have been a good luck charm indeed!" Mr. Boggains would chirp happily, clasping his hands together with glee. Under her discretion, he hired a league of graduating Hogwarts students who were at the top of their class in Potions, Transformation and Ancient Runes. They'd found good use for every student who accepted the position, and Angelina had then been promoted to Supervisor.

"I'm dreadful at speaking in public. _You_ handle all the public relations and negotiations at the Ministry. They'll love you," Mr. Boggains told her. And he was a pitiful sight indeed before a crowd, shaking and stumbling over his words, turning pink about the face. Angelina had been Quidditch Captain, so giving orders and getting her point across came naturally for her.

Recently, Angelina had been forced to purchase business suits, for she was currently juggling the busy task of working at SPC and giving presentations on behalf of her company to various heads of different departments in the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes division at the Ministry of Magic. A lot of the potions she'd created with her team had ended up helping many of patients who ended up on the third floor. To her dismay, presentation days meant hours in high heels as she explained what combinations worked best for this and that, and what experiments they were working on at SPC and so on and so forth.

Angelina didn't have a presentation this week, so she would just be able to wear the standard uniform, which resembled the scrubs worn by Muggle nurses, and a comfortable pair of trainers. She got out of the shower, her hair dripping wet and curling down her back, and went into her room to get dressed. Thank Merlin's name that she wouldn't have to put her hair in one of those stuffy updos either; she could just put it into a ponytail.

She slung her wet towel to the bed and hurriedly fastened her bra. She pulled her most boring yet most comfortable pair of panties on and grabbed her pants, glancing nervously at the clock.

"Damn," she cursed. She was pushing it. It was most convenient to take the Muggle subway to downtown London and then use the second telephone box on Crescent Street to get to work, but one had to be careful. The later it got, the more Muggles were about. The more Muggles were about, the more likely it was that someone was bound to notice it quite strange when someone entered the telephone box and didn't come back out, rather, appeared to _disappear_ altogether.

"Accio, quill and parchment," she hissed, trying to stay quiet.

She wrote:

_George,_

_I've gone to work. Stay as long as you like. There's plenty of food in the fridge, but don't eat everything unless you're going to buy more of it, ha ha. If you do leave, the flat will lock itself. I will stop by your flat when I get off if you've gone. Hestia probably has pissed somewhere about my flat. I didn't see her when I got up this morning and __don't you leave her here__ if you go back to your flat. I don't like cats _that_ much. _

_Angie_

She charmed the notice to float mid air above his head, then left.

*****

Angelina unlocked her flat at well past her usual working hours. There'd been a disaster in the lab. Bailey Thomas had added too much baby dragon pox to one of her experimental potions, and had promptly exploded her vial into pieces. Explosions in itself were quite common, and the sudden boom everyone heard had not caused the alarm it would have in another working environment; what had caused the alarm was the shrieking from Bailey, as she had also blown a small hole into her protective gloves, and the pox had touched her skin. By the time they'd whisked her away to St. Mungo's, half of her body had been covered in hideous boils and she'd started to vomit green slime uncontrollably. The smell of it had been particularly unpleasant.

It had really shaken up Angelina. She hadn't seen an accident that bad since her first year working at SPC, when Roger Blakely had insisted on tasting the lime scented remedy for ailing hangovers. Despite being warned that it was still in the experimental stage, he'd sneaked to the lab on lunch break to get it. Poor chap, by the time he'd been found, his tongue was as long as the tables and had sprouted blue fur.

Thank Merlin's name it was Friday. Angelina did love her job, and she felt lucky for that, but it was exhausting work that left little time for anything else, such as having a life.

"Angelina? That you?"

She was surprised, but not displeased, that George was still over. "Who else would be coming into my flat without knocking?" she called out as she came into her living room.

George had put the couch back (it was still a little lumpy looking about the top, but Angelina could fix that later) and was flipping through the pages of the Daily Prophet. So he _had_ been out today. He'd just chosen to return to her flat, not his own.

"I dunno…maybe your 'special somebody'?" he said, grinning at her through his facial hair.

Angelina loved to see him smile, as she always had. He had hardly done so since she'd visited with him. She tossed her workbag down and plopped down beside George on her couch.

"Haven't got one of those. Haven't got time to with my work schedule and all," she sighed.

"That's your excuse for not getting a decent piece, eh? That never stopped Fred and I," George said, and started to laugh, but stopped halfway through, and returned to his newspaper.

Automatically, comfortably, Angelina touched him, linking her arm through his, putting her head against his shoulder. "You two were the biggest flirts I ever met. You'll probably never settle down," she said.

"Maybe I would've before…but now…I just don't want to be close to anyone," he said, casually turning a page in the paper.

"Not even me? Aren't we close?" Angelina asked, sitting up to look at him. His blue eyes had lost their twinkle, that mischievous thread that was always such a huge part of him. There was no denying he was a broken man now. Still, he had beautiful eyes. That would never change.

"We won't stay that way. Nothing ever stays the same," George said with a shrug.

"Come off it, we've been close since we were children! That's ten years. I don't see why things should change after all these years," she argued, feeling slightly offended at his response. "And it isn't wise to shut people out of your life. That's not what Fred would have wanted–"

"How the hell do _you_ know what he would've wanted?" George interrupted, sounding angry and cold.

Angelina pulled her arm free, her heart clenching. He'd never spoken to her like that before. "I _don't_ know. I wasn't implying that I _did_ know, but I don't like how quickly you just dismiss me as your friend. I'll always be here for you. It's not fair to assume something will happen to make that not so," she said.

"So, what, when you meet some bloke and he wants to get married, you'll still be around to charm your couch into a bed for an old friend? I don't believe so. Or I change my mind and get lonely enough to marry some fickle tart for company, d'you think you'll be able to just show up at my flat and 'check on me'? Nothing stays the same, Angelina, as I said," George spat out.

Angelina glared at him for a moment before standing up and marching to her room. There was something small and warm at her heels. Hestia was following her.

"Come on, Hestia. I've had a _long_ day, and all I'd really like to do now is relax with someone who appreciates me," she said loudly, scooping up the cat before she slammed her bedroom door shut.

*****

Angelina was damp from her shower, and had just fixed her hair into one, long braid (as she always did before she went to bed) when there came a knock at her door.

She didn't answer, but that didn't matter because George came in anyway.

"I can't believe anyone would be this neat all the time. It's almost unnerving," he said, his hands in the pockets of his Muggle jeans. He was acting as if they hadn't just rowed earlier, but if this was his way of making amends, so be it. He'd been through enough; she'd just let it go.

"You were here by yourself, don't tell me you didn't go poking around through my things," she said as she smoothed a few loose pieces of hair back.

"I didn't. I would never do that. I just…slept and ate some of your pot pie. I went and got a paper so I could look for flats. And jobs," he said.

Angelina was pulling her sheets back, but stopped when he said this. "But you've already got a job, George. And a flat."

"I'll never live there again. I can't. And I don't want to work at Wheezes anymore. That was me and Fred's business. I can't go on with him gone," he said.

Angelina let out a little gasp of horror. "George, you were practically making millions! That's what you _do_, it's what you were _born_ to do! Don't give that up! You just _can't_!"

"I don't want to go there anymore, don't you understand that? I don't want to be reminded of him. I don't want people looking at me with pity, asking me questions or telling me they're sorry. I just want to be left alone. All of this…it just hurts too much!" George said loudly.

If he was being this honest with her, it was the wrong thing to do, to argue. She took a deep breath before she replied, "I know that it hurts. It must feel…_dreadful_. It does for me as well, and I'm not saying that I understand your pain completely, because I don't. He was just my boyfriend for a little while, but he was your twin–"

"My other half. The other part of me…" George said softly.

"I know he was. I know that. And…if you choose another career, then I'll support you. But you have the rest of your life to live. I just don't know if you'd be happy working some nine to five job with a boss breathing down your neck all day long. I don't see you wearing a suit and tie to work and being stuffed in a bloody little cubicle all day long."

George said nothing, just leaned against the wall, banging his head against it a few times. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm lost."

"It seems that way now. But you'll figure things out. And as long as you want me to, or need me to, I'll help you," Angelina said as soothingly as she could. "I can help you find a place. You can stay here until you do, if you want. I don't mind. I have the space."

"What _do_ you have this giant flat for?" George muttered.

Angelina shrugged. "It was nice just to know that I could have it. So I got it. You talk as if _your_ place is a hole in the wall."

"That's not my place anymore. I went today and moved most of my things to Mum and Dad's. Mum lost her shite when I told her what I'd done, but it's over with now. If you're serious about us sharing a flat, I'd much rather stay here. I can't be around them, not now. I can't stand the crying," George said.

Angelina climbed into her bed with Hestia jumping up beside her. "Of course I'm serious. I'd actually love a flat mate. All my girl friends are either married or living with their parents. Sometimes it does get a little frightening at night, especially when there are storms. But how will we explain everything to dates?"

"Well, _you_ don't date, as you've already said," he said with a little smile. "And if I want to shag someone, I'll just use the Muffliato charm."

The comment bothered Angelina, pinching at her insides like a crab claw. She didn't want to say it was jealousy, because they had known each other for years. Yet, something inside had almost cringed…

Ridiculous, that's what she was being. "Right," Angelina said, forcing a laugh, "I definitely don't want to hear any groans of ecstasy."

George actually laughed, and for a moment, seemed like his old self again.

"Aren't you tired?" Angelina asked him. She lay back against her pillows, closing her eyes for a moment. It felt so good to just lie down and do nothing. She opened her eyes again because George hadn't answered. He was watching her, and it caused something light and warm to flutter in her chest.

"I don't know what I am," he answered. His walls were back up; he'd gone back to that strange way again, what with the noncommittal answers.

"Of course you are. Would you like me to do the couch?" Angelina said, pushing the sheets back and starting to get up.

"No, no, I think I can manage on my own," George said, holding his hands out. "The only thing is, er, you've got my cat. I'm just…I'm used to her sleeping with me."

Angelina turned around, looking at Hestia, who had comfortably stretched her lanky body out across the blankets. "I think she's comfortable here," she said, smiling.

Then it hit her that he hadn't wanted to be alone last night. Maybe he felt the same way tonight, only he didn't want to admit it.

"You can sleep here, if you want. It's a queen size mattress," Angelina said, feeling shy. Bloody hell, what was the problem? It was just George!

He didn't say anything, just shut the lights out before he came across the room and slid into bed beside her.

"What's that you're wearing?" His voice was nearly a whisper in the inky black darkness of the room.

"Nothing," Angelina whispered back. She sniffed her arm, hardly believing he could smell that honeysuckle bar she'd used almost an hour ago now. "It's just soap."

"It smells good," George said softly.

Angelina didn't respond, just clutched her pillow tightly under her face, and tried to ignore the pounding in her heart.

Unlike last night, George didn't touch her at all. She'd have been telling a lie if she'd said that she didn't feel disappointed.

_A/N: I apologize if my British is off. I forget the phrases and such when I haven't read the HP books in awhile, which I haven' because I've been working like a dog, same as Angelina. Thank you for the reviews, by the way. I greatly appreciate them! Okay, well I'm off to work on Chapter 4. I don't know if I'm going to keep things slow or have an accidental night of passion coming up…we'll see. I'll take a backseat and let Angelina and George tell their story, hee hee. _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Angelina sat stone still at the small, pink table, feeling interchangeable waves of rage, shock, and awe at what the twins had done this time, setting off those monstrous fireworks and that impossible to clean swamp at Hogwarts. She hadn't minded that so much as the fact that both boys were now gone from Hogwarts. Those total idiots (but really, they were genius) had officially dropped out of school. Angelina hadn't known whether to cry or scream. When she'd received George's owl, asking her to meet him in Hogsmeade that weekend, she'd done a bit of both, because that's when she'd realized that they had truly left for good. They wouldn't be back. No more sharing notes from class with them, no more shouting orders from the pitch at Quidditch matches, no more covering up giggles as they joked, pranked and swindled their way from one semester to the next. _

_Now, here she was, waiting for George in Madam Puddifoot's of all places. Angelina was suddenly cross, as she folded her arms across the table and glared out the window. Damn his eyes, he was probably up to some trick. Why would he come alone? Why would he want to meet here, a notorious place for teens to snog and such? None other than to try and get a rise out of her, as both he and Fred loved to do. _

_Well, she would have none of it. She jumped to her feet as the realization hit her, and was jamming her arms through the sleeves of her zip up jumper when George came bounding inside the cozy little coffee house, cheeks flushed, grinning from ear to ear. _

"_What're you doing? Ditching me?" he asked her in that cool, confident way of his. "Nobody ditches a Weasley. Sit down, girl–"_

"_What did you ask me to come here for? I'm not in the mood to be made a fool of," Angelina warned. "I know you're up to something, you always are." _

"_I wanted to talk to you, is all!" George said. "I'm being honest!"_

"_Bollocks!"_

"_No, honest!" _

"_Well, you should be talking to Dumbledore, and begging him to let you back in school. I can't _believe_ you dropped out of Hogwarts. You've lost your bloody mind, you and Fred both," Angelina hissed as George rolled his eyes and pulled her by the elbow back towards a table away from the front door. _

_She allowed herself to be escorted to the back table, curious as to what excuse he would give for himself and his twin's behavior. _

"_Well? What the fuck were you thinking about?" Angelina practically screeched when they'd both sat down. _

_George laughed heartily. "You're really unwrapped over it, aren't you?" _

_In response, Angelina burst into tears. She couldn't help it; she was going to miss him in class. He'd always sat right next to her, for the past seven years he had, asking to borrow quills, getting her opinion on his latest episodes of mischief ("You're both bloody idiots, you just won't quit until you get expelled, is what I think, George"), copying her notes and occasionally homework or exams…_

"_Angelina?" _

_She shook her head, and accepted a pink napkin from one of the flying cherubs that had zoomed over. To the cherub, she said, "Thank you." _

_When she had dabbed her eyes, she looked up at George, who was now looking deeply concerned, his brows knit in a frown. _

"_What is it?" he asked her. _

"_I-I-I'll miss you, is all. I just can't believe you left me. I can't believe you and Fred have done this. I can't believe that I'll go to Advanced Potions on Monday and the seat beside me will be empty," she sniffed. _

_George broke into a grin. "I'm touched that you give a rat's chode." _

"_See? It's things just like that," Angelina said, her eyes welling up again. Her emotions were really out of wack this menstrual cycle. It was ridiculous, that she would cry over her friend quitting school. "You always made me laugh, or infuriated me. I should be laughing now, except I've not clue what a 'chode' is." _

"_It's the part behind the rat's–"_

"_Stop, I'm almost sure I don't really want to know," Angelina interrupted. A giggle escaped her, and she rolled her eyes. _

_George started to laugh then, and that made Angelina laugh. By the time they'd stopped laughing at each other, Angelina realized that their legs were touching underneath the table. She felt her face–no, her entire body–get hot. _

"_I want you to know something, Angie," George said, sounding serious. _

"_Oh, what's that?" she asked, trying not to concentrate on the warmth that passed from his legs to hers. Did he notice how close they were? Maybe he thought her legs were part of the table. He must've, else he would have moved away from her. Surely he wouldn't go after her, not when she'd already dated Fred. The funny thing was that, Fred's touch, or more like groping, had never made her feel this way. Not even when she and Fred had kissed, had there been anything there that made her feel like this. _

"_I just want you to know that I…what I mean is that you…I hope you and I will always be friends. I hope that my dropping out of school won't cause you to think less of me. I can't imagine not being around you one way or another," he said. _

_It was the first time since she'd known him that he hadn't referred to himself as "we" or "us". He was talking just about himself. He wanted to separate his feelings from Fred's. Could it mean…_

"_Yes, of course," Angelina said breathlessly, as she started to put two and two together. She knew what it meant, what he'd said. And she knew that she _wanted_ him to feel that way. She also knew it was wrong. "Of course. I'll always be your friend. You need someone to tell you which girls are twits, for Merlin's sake. You'll bang anyone with bumps under her jumper." _

"_I'm not like that. I'm sure you never noticed, but I'm more of a one woman kind of bloke," he said. _

_Angelina couldn't hold the gaze with which he was looking at her, but not because she didn't feel anything. Because she _did_. _

"_We'll always be friends, George," she said quietly. "No matter what." _

"_Good. That's all I wanted to know when I asked you to come here, that you wouldn't be too ashamed of us to stick around, after what we did." _

_He gave her his grin, and she smiled back, and hoped she was playing off the thumping of her heart in that moment. _

_She wouldn't know until years later that his was pounding just as fiercely. _

*****

For the next few weeks, things continued in very much the same manner as they had since Angelina had stopped by to see George. The only difference was that he was now living in her flat. They settled quietly into a routine, even more so after George got a job working for Gringotts. Hestia was always waiting near the door for Angelina to get home, and sometimes George had even cooked. He'd always been an excellent cook, which had surprised Angelina the first time she'd tasted anything he'd made.

Getting used to the new George was a challenge, because Angelina never knew what to expect when he was around. He never joked anymore, and rarely laughed, and she was getting used to that about him. Sometimes he was quiet and somber; sometimes he would go out to the bars and come back shit faced, vomiting in the hallway or passing out on the couch. Angelina just put a blanket on him and cleaned up the mess. Sometimes he was waiting for her when she got home from work, and wanted to hear about everything she'd done at work, sometimes talking with her for hours about nothing in particular; sometimes he wept, in the bathroom with the door closed, or in his room, all of those times when he thought she couldn't hear him. But she did. She always listened out for him, because she knew he would never come to her when he truly needed her company.

The first few times she heard him in his room, she let him be. Perhaps he wanted to be alone. He had stopped sleeping in the same room with her once he'd brought his bedroom suit over. Angelina knew that he was spending hardly any time with his own family. He never wanted to go home, not even to visit with them. He would get angry if she even mentioned it, so she eventually stopped. She didn't tell him that she visited with his family at least once a week to let them know how he was doing.

One night, Angelina heard George sounding worse than usual, crying out. She stood listening for a moment, biting her lip, then crossed the hall to his room and knocked lightly.

"Georgie?" she called out, opening the door.

He was having some kind of nightmare, because his eyes were closed, but he was sobbing, clutching the blankets to him.

She raced to him, shaking him gently. "George! Wake up!"

His eyes fluttered opened, and he appeared confused as he stared at her. "Am I dreaming?" he whispered to her.

"Not anymore–"

"So he's still dead, then," he said.

Tears burned at Angelina's eyes as she nodded.

"I don't want to live anymore. I can't go on like this anymore," George said flatly.

"Don't you say that. It breaks my heart to hear you talk like that," Angelina said softly. "I love you." She took hold of his hand, squeezing it in her own. He didn't look at her, only lay staring up at the ceiling.

"Georgie? D'you hear me? I love you," she said, kissing his hand in hers.

"Don't tell me that. You've no idea how cruel it is," he said, taking his hand back.

"It's the truth! I _do_ love you!" Angelina cried.

"Angelina, please get out of my room. You're the last person I need to see right now," George said.

Stung, Angelina stared at him for a moment. But she respected his request. She nodded her head, and got up off his bed. "Alright, then. Good night–"

George had already gotten up and gone to his closet. He was tugging on clothes furiously.

"Where are you going?" she asked him worriedly.

"Out. I'll be back," he said gruffly, and pushed by her.

Angelina, hurt, returned to her room. Hesita chased an old potion bottle under the bed, the only content being in the flat.

*****

Angelina didn't realize that she'd fallen asleep until she heard the sound of voices trying to stay quiet. She scowled at the clock, which read 3:15 a.m., and then crept to her door.

She heard a woman's giggle, then the sounds of sloppy, drunk infused snogging and groaning. Something crashed against the wall just outside of her bedroom door, and she backed away in horror.

"Wrong room, love," she heard George say.

"Sorry," the woman's voice hiccupped.

The sounds of snogging returned. Angelina felt glued to the door, hardly believing what was happening.

It got worse, because there was no Muffliato charm being used; in fact, Angelina wondered if George had even bothered to close his own door when she heard the obvious sounds of shagging take up across the hall to the flat. HER flat!

When the twit started squealing and grunting, Angelina pointed her own wand at the door and hissed, "_Quietus magnatus_!"

She'd used the charm several times during work when she needed absolute concentration. She should have approximately four hours of noiseless peace before the charm wore off. Hopefully George's little "midnight shag" would be over by then.

And what if the twit decided to stick around in the morning?

Well, Angelina could just head out for the lab.

She was furious with George, for now he was being rude; at least, _she_ felt so. She certainly wasn't _jealous_, for Merlin's sake, but still… he hadn't even the decency to close the door, damn his eyes.

Of course, Angelina wondered if she'd scared him off, telling him she loved him. Well, of course she hadn't meant it in that way! It had only seemed right to say at that moment. Besides, she _did_ love him. She'd always loved him.

But did she love him or did she _love_ him?

Was it ludicrous for her to even be thinking about George in that manner after all that had happened?

She wanted to scream, but didn't. Maybe a little tinkering in the lab would do her some good. She'd worked in the wee early hours of the morning and into the wee hours of the night before. She could do it again. All she knew was the suddenly, she didn't want to be in the same flat as George and his bimbo anymore.

*****

Angelina woke up with a crick in her neck, this time due to being slumped over the hard, wooden desk in her office.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, yawning. She'd gotten here around four thirty, and had actually pulled next week's presentation together before she'd dozed off accidentally.

She didn't smell the best, and her hair wasn't properly combed, but she didn't want to see George's face right now. She felt plain embarrassed about the whole thing last night, and he'd no doubt known that she'd heard everything. Perhaps he'd wanted her to hear it. He had all but kicked her out after what she'd said. The only thing that had thrown her off was the whole 'You're being cruel' bit. She didn't understand how she'd been cruel in the least.

"I should've just left him alone," she said to herself as she grabbed her work bag, which had a few toiletries stuffed into it. It was a workday, and she always had spare clothes in her office. You never knew when something would explode around SPC. She quickly changed into a spare uniform, and was soon busy mixing potions and entering results into lab notebooks.

Sooner than Angelina had realized, the end of Friday came, and she was glad that it was finally the weekend. She needed to catch up on her sleep, but first, she decided to go to Diagon Alley and stop by Wizard Wheezes, which she usually did before coming home. She felt it was only right to share information with his flesh and blood, as he had pulled away from the lot of them.

George's youngest brother Ron was restocking some Pygmy Puffs when she came in close to closing time. He and Percy had done most of the upkeep of the shop since George hadn't set foot inside the building since Fred had passed.

"Hi, Angelina," Ron said, giving her a big hug. Percy was ringing out the last of the customers, but he gave her a wink and a nod when he saw her.

"Hello, Ron. How's everything?" she asked him.

"Well, Hermione and I are moving our wedding date up. Just to have something to look forward to, you know, since the War and everything…" Ron said.

He had grown so much since that time. She could still remember him, gangly and always struggling to make a name for himself. She remembered how nervous he'd been just playing Quidditch at first. He was a man now. She was proud of him. She hugged him again.

"I'm glad to hear it. That'll be nice. I know Hermione's excited," Angelina said.

"Yes, she is. I think she and Ginny might be talking about a double wedding, but I dunno, that might drive me mad. Mum was bad enough with Bill's wedding, I can't imagine her helping with two at the same time," Ron said, shaking his head. "How's George?"

Angelina forced a smile and fingered the edge of the counter she was next to. "He still has his ups and downs. I think he may have met someone though, as he brought her home last night. I've no idea what they're up to, I've been at work all day."

"Really? He brought someone home? I'm surprised you didn't take the piss out of him for that shite," Ron said.

"Why?" Angelina said too quickly. "There's nothing going on between George and I. I wouldn't disrespect Fred like that and neither would he–"

"Come off it, Angelina, you and Fred dated ages ago. And didn't you break up after a few weeks?"

"That's beside the point. George and I are just best friends."

"So were Hermione and I, and look how we turned out."

"It's different, Ron. Trust me."

"I don't know. He won't talk to anyone but you. And I remember once I came across this letter he'd written to you…I didn't read the whole thing, well, I did, but when he caught me, he nearly hexed my arse off. He never told you about that?"

"No, he didn't. What did the letter say?" Angelina was curious beyond words.

"Oh, it was awhile ago, I don't really remember it. You should ask him about it," Ron said casually as he locked the cage where the Puffs were.

"Angelina, good to see you!" Percy said, coming over. He and Angelina exchanged kisses on the cheek.

"Hello, Percy. I didn't mean to stop you two from working, I just came by to see how you all were doing–"

"Angelina says George brought some twit home, and shagged her all night. Angelina had to stay locked in her room," Ron said to Percy, folding his arms across his chest.

"He did? We just assumed that you and he were–"

"For God's sake, just because we live together does not mean we're involved!" Angelina said, exasperated that Ron had hit the nail on the head with George's activities. With the exception, of course, that she had spent her night locked in her office at work instead of her room.

"I'd talk some sense into him if he'd come around once in awhile. It breaks Mum's heart, the way he's doing the family," Percy said.

"What about all those years _you_ showed your arse and wouldn't talk to anybody?" Ron said in disbelief.

"That doesn't count, brother, and besides, I've made my amends. Anyhow, Penelope and I have a date tonight, so I've got to run. Ron, will you lock up for me? I've done it the past two nights."

"I'm not staying behind to clean up this mess. We're probably going to have to close this place down as it is. We're almost out of half the stock and George is at Gringotts now, like a git, so there goes the first Weasley millionaire," Ron said with a sigh. "Hermione and I are actually going to visit with her parents for the weekend. I haven't packed a damn thing. I'll give you twenty Galleons if you lock up. I'll close for a whole week."

Angelina watched the exchange between the two brothers, saddened yet intrigued by how they seemed to be, well, making it. They were still very similar to the people they had been before. The strength was in the togetherness. They were still a family. George was not getting better because he was alienating himself.

"I'll stay and lock up, you two gits," Angelina sighed, rolling up her sleeves.

"Great," Percy said, and hugged her again.

"Yeah, thanks, Angelina," Ron said, doing likewise.

Even her exchange with them was simple, natural. It would be nothing for George to just fit right back into his family. She understood yet did not understand his need to distance himself from them all.

Percy and Ron were soon gone, so Angelina set to work cleaning.

She had almost finished when she looked up and noticed that the door to the back of the shop was slightly open. Percy or Ron must've gone back there for something and forgotten to lock it back up. Wiping her hands off on her pants, she looked around as if about to do something illegal. The shop was silent, except for the high pitched squeaks of the Pygmy Puffs. The _Closed_ sign in the window of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was blinking. There was no one to tell Angelina not to go there, to the back of the shop. Still, she felt her heart pounding in her chest as she slowly made her way to the opened door of the stock room.

Angelina pushed the door open to the large workroom. There were two work tables right in the front, both cluttered with broken products, papers, quills, and ink bottles.

_This was where they experimented_, she thought with wonder and sadness. _This was where they created everything. _

Behind the tables were rows upon rows of shelves, high as the ceiling. They were covered with boxes, some open, some unopened. Angelia wandered over to the nearest one, and peeked inside of it. It was filled with quills. She picked up one of the packages marked, "Testing Incomplete" and flipped it over to read:

**Get the laugh of a lifetime when you offer your friends and coworkers these exciting trinkets! After exactly eleven lines of penmanship…they simply disappear, erasing everything the user has written! Who knows where the pen and the markings will show up next! **

She laughed quietly, and put the package back where it was. She ran her hand along the length of the shelf, looking into the different boxes. There were portable rainstorm bombs, miniature pet dragon eggs guaranteed to last 30 days before expiring, endless supplies of U-No-Poo. So many inventions and ideas, all here, all seemingly deserted.

"What are you doing in here?"

The sound of George's voice caused Angelina nearly to jump out of her skin. She whirled around, her heart racing in her chest.

"I-I-I was just looking—" she stammered as he came towards her, his face pale with what looked to be anger.

"What the fuck are you about, going through me and Fred's stuff?"

"I wasn't…I mean, I was just looking! I didn't break anything. I'm sorry," she gasped as he got closer to her. His scowl was furious, his eyes unreadable except for the obvious anger.

"Get the hell out, Angelina! Just get the fuck out of here!" George suddenly exploded at her, reaching out and punching an open box of gadgets. Everything inside went flying.

Without another word, she ran past him and out the door of the shop as fast as she could.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Angelina walked through the streets of London for close to an hour, shivering in the night without her coat on as she thought of the best way to go about facing George after he'd caught her snooping through his room of abandoned magic. She wanted to talk to him desperately, about everything, really, but she didn't know what to say.

This October seemed colder than the last, and Angelina could tell that rain was coming; right now, the sky was sprinkling little drops, but the downpour would surely follow suit. She needed to make up her mind soon if she would stop by a friend's house or just go home and face her friend. Maybe he wouldn't be home. But then again, maybe he would be. If she visited with a friend, she could avoid a possible altercation. Her two closest friends, Alicia and Katie, were married and Katie had just had her second child; she was probably up to her neck in diapers. Alicia would be curious as to why Angelina was so upset about what had happened, and most likely put two and two together. Angelina didn't want to answer questions about "two and two". Giving up, Angelina sighed and Apparated herself back home.

George was sitting on the couch, playing with Hestia. He jumped to his feet upon seeing her.

"Angelina–"

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, interrupting him. "I shouldn't have gone in there. I had no right. I told your brothers that I would close the shop because they both had other things to do, and…and I noticed that the door was cracked, so I just...I went in and I shouldn't have and I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry about it. That was a personal space of yours, and I should've respected your privacy."

George said nothing for a moment.

_I've blown it. I've crossed the line_, Angelina thought feverishly.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I was wrong. I shouldn't have yelled about it. It just took me by surprise, is all. I haven't been in there since…you know, Fred passed."

He stopped and took a deep breath. "I said it. I said it out loud. For months, I haven't been able to say that out loud."

Angelina nodded, her heart going out to him. She took a deep breath, watching George. She would wait for him to speak next. She always gave him that chance to talk about Fred, because to her knowledge, he wasn't talking about his twin to anyone else. Hestia had made her way over to her, and started weaving herself in between Angelina's legs, mewing to be picked up, but she didn't move.

"What did you go to Wheezes for?" George asked her, his eyes narrowing.

Angelina felt her face get hot. "Um, I-I just go there sometimes to see how your family's doing. Usually it's just Ron and Percy working, but sometimes your sister's there too. They just want to know that you're…that you're managing."

"I'm _not_ managing."

"They just want to know something, anything, about you."

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I'm not staying away to spite them. It's hard for me. I-I'm not ready to be around them."

"They're your family, George. They feel the same way you do," Angelina said gently.

"I just can't right now!" George said desperately.

Angelina nodded, wanting to comfort him, to show him that she was on his side. "I understand. I think they do too. I just hope I'm helping by just letting your brothers know that you're at least _eating_, and interacting with others. But if you want me to stop, I will," she said. "I don't want to cause any tension between you and your family."

"No, no, I'm alright with it. It's good that you're keeping in touch with everyone." George paused. "How are they holding up?"

"They're taking it one day at a time. Ron said they would probably have to close the shop because they're running out of supplies. Right now everyone is pitching in to help, but no one can create all those exciting trinkets and gadgets like you."

"_You_ can," George said.

"I make medicines to cure illnesses. I wouldn't know the first thing about coming up with something to make somebody laugh. That takes talent. That's _your_ department," Angelina said.

George wasn't acting angry anymore, so maybe the whole misunderstanding was over. She decided not to even mention his late night festivities. Angelina leaned down to untie her shoes, putting them neatly next to the door. "I'm going to turn in. I think I stayed out too long in the rain. I feel a bit light headed," she said as she walked to the back.

George grabbed her hand as she passed him. Her heart skipped a beat. "Thank you, Angelina. For everything. I mean it."

She smiled, and squeezed his hand back, more so to keep him from knowing that he'd caused her to tremble. "I'm doing what any friend would have."

He started to say something; she saw it in his cobalt blue eyes, but he changed his mind, and let her hand go. She turned away from him, feeling a fever that had nothing to do with being in the rain.

"I'm sorry about the girl I brought home. I was pissed out of my mind, else I would've…I dunno…used the Muffliato," he said suddenly.

Angelina stopped, turning back towards George. "Don't worry about it. I can manage a quieting spell when I need to." She didn't want to talk about _her_, whoever she was.

"You sure you weren't bothered by it?" George asked.

Angelina stiffened, but forced herself to answer cheerfully, "Of course not. We've already discussed this. I'm not your girlfriend, I'm your best friend. You're free to shag all of London if you please. I'm happy that you've found someone special. It's good for you to go out and enjoy yourself."

George gave her a quick smile, and picked up Hestia. "Goodnight, then."

"Good night," Angelina replied.

*****

The rain came the next morning, along with chilly weather. Angelina and George lounged about the flat, watching Muggle television, eating popcorn balls that Angelina made and taffy squares that George had whipped up in hardly any time at all. Besides stuffing their faces with junk food and watching the Muggle "cartoons" as they were called, Angelina and George were doing little else. George sat on the floor next to the couch while Angelina stretched out on it, her hand absentmindedly twirling through George's ruffled hair.

"I can't believe you got that job at Gringott's with your hair all over like this," Angelina said.

"I charmed the pants off the lot of them," George said. He'd made a small joke, and it caused Angelina to laugh. He hadn't done such a thing in so long, and when he did, it made her think that, despite his denial, he _was_ starting to heal.

"I'm sure you did. Probably quite literally," Angelina said, smiling.

"I _should_ clean up a bit. I'm beginning to tire of looking like a distant relative of Hagrid," George said, tugging at his hair and his beard.

She laughed again. "Come, now, it's not _that_ bad. I've gotten used to it, at any rate."

"Have I ever told you that I love the sound of your laughter?" George said, turning around to look at her.

"I love the sound of _yours_. I wish you would do it more often," Angelina said.

George shrugged his shoulders. "Not much to laugh about these days," he said. Angelina grinned for a minute before she reached out and tickled him on his sides, where she knew he was sensitive.

"Oi! Stop that!" George cried, trying to control his smile. Angelina had always found it so adorable, the fact that he was ticklish. She tickled his side again, and he wiggled away from her, grabbing her hand to stop her, and tugging a bit too hard. With a surprised squeal, she tumbled off the couch, somehow ending up under George, him holding her by her wrists to keep her from touching him. She was laughing harder now, turning her head from side to side now as he returned the favor, holding her effortlessly with one hand while he poked her belly with his free hand.

"George, stop!" she shrieked in between fits of giggles. George would not stop, so Angelina brought her legs up in an effort to keep him away. He pitched forward, landing between her thighs, and suddenly, their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing heavily. They looked into each other's eyes, both of their smiles slowly fading as they realized their proximity. They were close enough to kiss. But would they?

"Sorry…" George mumbled, getting up.

They would not.

"It's okay," Angelina said, accepting his hand as he pulled her to her feet. She went back to her place on the couch, he back to his spot on the floor beneath him. Angelina kept her hands to herself, and they did not touch again.

*****

Later that night, Angelina and George both dressed for an evening out. Angelina was headed for Alicia's house, and George was going God only knew where.

At Alicia's house, Angelina chatted happily for a few hours, and when Alicia asked about George, she gave the most perfunctory answer possible.

"He's getting better every day," she said.

"I can't believe you're living together and you haven't fooled around yet," Alicia said with a snicker.

"Why would we do that? It's Fred's twin, for God's sake!" Angelina said more loudly than was necessary. "Besides, he's been having his fun with every bar maid in sight!"

"I didn't know he was like that. Frankly, I'm surprised. I'd always suspected him of having it bad for _you_," Alicia said, shaking her head as she pondered.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? He didn't," Angelina insisted.

"It was all in his eyes, Angelina. Just in the way he used to look at you," Alicia said. "You'd be blind not to see it. Anyway, that was a long time ago. Hogwarts seems like another life now, doesn't it? And really, what do I know? I'm just glad that you're helping through his tragedy. It must be awful to have to deal with."

"I'm sure," Angelina said. She changed the subject to Katie's baby, which thankfully, Alicia was all too eager to converse about, as she'd been twice to see the newborn. Angelina listened half heartedly; she was thinking about what Alicia had said, about the way George looked at her. Was she totally mad, or did he still look at her in that way? She didn't know. It was much harder to read him with all that facial hair.

By the time she headed back home, it was nearly ten o'clock at night. George had said he was going out to a bar, so she expected to see him again in the morning, as she would be no doubt fast asleep by the time he came home.

She was mistaken.

The first thing Angelina saw when she entered her flat was the undergarments of a female all over the floor. The trail of clothing led to the couch, where George lay partially covered up by a mop of light brown hair. The hair belonged to a girl, and she was draped across his naked chest.

The girl didn't stir at the sound of the door opening, but George, who must have been awake, did. He sat up a little, his eyes locking with Angelina's. The interaction lasted less than a minute, but neither George nor Angelina said anything.

Angelina just walked past him to her room, and closed the door. She cast her locking charm, and her quiet charm, then lay down across her bed. She felt hurt, and angry. She felt confused because she shouldn't be feeling either. Soon her emotional overload took control of her weary mind, and she was fast asleep.

*****

She woke to the sound of knocking at her bedroom door. She wanted to tell George to piss off, but that would be childish, and besides, as she'd told him, she was _not_ jealous about him brining girls home. At least, that's what she would keep telling herself.

"Angelina? You awake? I've got a surprise for you," George called from the other side of the door.

Part of her wanted to ignore him. She was upset. There was no use denying it. She'd hated seeing him with that girl; she hated seeing him with any girl for that matter. She'd felt this way for years, and of course she'd noticed the looks he'd been giving her, because she'd been giving him the same looks, ever since that night he'd asked her to blow on that little stone.

"Angelina?" George called.

"Hold on," she replied. With a sigh, she slid from her bed, tugging on the matching bottoms to her sleeping shirt. She unlocked her door, then opened it.

There stood George, freshly shaved, hair still slightly long in the back, but looking young again, looking like who he had been before everything had gone to hell. Angelina quickly forgot about her displeasure with him, and leapt into his arms with an excited squeal.

"It's brilliant! You look so good! When did you do this?" she asked breathlessly, taking his face in her hands and turning it left and right.

"This morning. Early. I was up, I couldn't sleep," George said, taking her hands in his own.

"It looks wonderful. I love it," Angelina said. They stood looking at each other, beaming, holding hands.

"There's something else," George said, pulling her by the hand down the hallway. In the kitchen was a full breakfast spread waiting for her.

"I've been an arse lately. I hope this makes up for it a little bit," George said, pulling out a chair for her.

"I can't believe you made all of this! Or is this for your girlfriend? Where's she, anyway?" Angelina said teasingly. She loved breakfast foods, and she was starving. She sat down.

"The one from last night? She's not my girlfriend," he said. "I don't want to be with her."

"So you just used her for a shag, then? How charming of you," Angelina said, helping herself to some raisin bread.

"I haven't forgotten that this is _your_ flat. I won't do anything that makes you upset. You were upset when you walked in on us, I could tell," George said.

"I wasn't upset, George," Angelina said curtly, spreading butter on her toast.

"Like hell you weren't."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"No, I wasn't."

"But you were."

Angelina sighed loudly, slamming her food down on her plate. "You act as if you want me to be upset, George–"

"I don't. That's the last thing I want, but you know you won't admit when you feel something even if it's pecking you on the nose, Angelina."

"What in Merlin's name…If I say I'm not upset, then I'm not upset!"

"Then why are you yelling?"

"Because you are _infuriating_!" Angelina said loudly, and got up from the table, heading back to her room. She was mad at him all over again.

George followed after her, and got to the door first, standing in front of it.

"Don't be like this," he said.

"I'm not! I told you, I don't give a…a rat's chode who you shag! I'm not–"

George's face crumpled, and Angelina stopped, curious. George started to laugh, softly at first, then harder and harder, until he was bent at the knees. Angelina couldn't help but laugh as well, what with George getting such a kick out of what she'd said.

"Rat's chode," he wheezed. "I can't _believe_ you pulled that one up!"

"Neither can I," Angelina admitted. "Especially since I never did find out what it was, exactly."

George stood back upright, wiping his eyes as he let out deep breath. The tension had melted away, just that easily.

"God, I was so crazy about you," George said suddenly, shaking his head. "That time I met up with you after Fred and I had dropped out of school…I had planned it all out, to tell you everything. When I saw you, I couldn't say it. You were so beautiful that day. All I could think about was kissing you."

Angelina was shocked beyond words at this confession. It had come out of nowhere, absolutely nowhere. Her smile faded as she watched him, wondering if he was still a little intoxicated.

He went on. "D'you know that _I_ fancied you first? I thought you were out of my league, _way_ out of my league. Fred thought it was hilarious that I'd actually met a girl who made me lose my nerve, so of course being the great git that he was, he asked you out. I was just sickened every time I saw you two together."

Angelina's heart was pounding now, her mouth open with shock, not that George had had these feelings for her, but that he was telling her, now.

"I don't want to bring home random girls, Angelina. I want to know who I'm coming home to," George said softly.

Angelina shook her head. "I don't understand…"

He stepped closer to her. "I'm saying it now because I've got nothing else to lose. When you told me that you loved me, and I told you it was cruel…that was because I've felt that way about you since I met you. And you chose Fred, not me. I had to accept that. When Fred passed, I was out of my mind. There's no telling what I would've done if you hadn't come by that day. When you said I could move in, all that I'd felt had already started back up, but now, living with you, seeing you every day… I can't help it. I can't control it. I don't want to be wrong, I don't want to disrespect my brother, but I can't help how I feel about you!" George said weakly.

"I…I don't know what to say," Angelina whispered, looking up at George.

"Say what you did the other night. I need to hear those words," he said quietly, his eyes lowering to her mouth.

"I love you," Angelina breathed.

"Do you really?" George asked, his hands already on her, pulling her closer to him. She felt her knees grow weak as she nodded her head.

"Because I'm not Fred. I'll never be him…"

"I know. I know. I always could tell you apart. Your eyes are darker. You're the more serious one. You're the one who can cook your arse off. You're the one who wrote me a letter that Ron found. I know," Angelina said, and the two of them embraced each other, holding on tight.

"I love you, Angelina," George whispered, taking her arms from around his neck so he could look at her.

He kissed her then, and Angelina could feel it, that chemistry that had always existed between them, but had never had a place to go, until now.

_A/N: Your reviews are wonderful. Even if you said my story was crap, I'd still love ya just cause you read it. I wanted to drag out the romance some more, but George and Angelina got tired of waiting. Don't get bored on me, though! This story is far from over, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that a good story is one that keeps you guessing. Now, who's ready for a little D-R-A-M-A? _


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Kissing George felt wonderful, kind of like a super charge radiating throughout Angelina's entire body. He held her even tighter, lifting her from the floor, pressing her against the wall. She was close, bloody hell she was close to letting him have all of her. This shared moment was magical, and one she knew she would never forget; but she also knew that George was emotionally fragile right now. Sex would unquestionably confuse things, and being a woman, she had the strength to at least acknowledge that and do something about it.

"Georgie…" she whispered as his hands slid under her shirt, touching the skin of her back. She gently pulled free.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked her tenderly.

"I don't think we should…not yet…" she said, biting her lower lip. She searched his eyes, knowing that was one way she could connect with him without speaking, hoping he understood. He pressed his head to hers, breathing deeply, but saying nothing. The way he was holding her practically had her ready to strip down to nothing and have a go on the floor, so she kept talking. "It's not because I don't want to, I just think we have to be careful. We shouldn't rush anything. A lot has happened, and a lot still _is_ happening. Oh, am I making any sense right now?"

"My heart says no. My mind says yes," George replied. He groaned, squeezing her waist in his hands. "Arrgh, I want to. I've _always_ wanted to with you."

"I know. Me, too, but we have time for that, don't we?"

"Seven months ago I would've said yes. Now, I'm not so sure," George said. He let her go, moving away from her. Angelina didn't miss the change in nuance; she saw and felt his emotional walls going up.

And just like that, the intimate moment between them was gone. She'd been right to cut things short. She _did_ love him, and she always would, especially after all they'd been through together since May, but he wasn't ready for a relationship, no matter what he'd just told her. Merlin's beard, he may not even have meant what he said.

As if reading her mind, he looked at her and said, "You think I was just telling you words, don't you? That I didn't mean any of it?"

"No!" Angelina said, hoping she was disguising in her voice that it was _precisely_ what she'd just been thinking. "I believe you. I'm just being honest by telling you how I feel. I think we owe it to ourselves to take our time. I don't want to mess this up. I want to get it right. That's all, George."

"I don't want to mess it up, either," George said. He smiled at her, looking so handsome, so much like the old George, that for a split second, she felt a pang of loss so great it almost brought tears to her eyes. George leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek. "I probably should get a leg up on getting my own place, then."

Angelina felt a dull tugging in her heart when he said this, but smiled despite it. "Well, for God's sake, George, you don't have to move out–"

"Yeah, but with us living together, it'll be too hard for me to take things slow. Trust me, it'll be a good thing," he said. "I can court you properly."

Angelina didn't want him to move out, especially not when he'd just kissed her senseless. But she supposed he had a point. Still, part of her couldn't help but feel like he was taking it as a rejection, and was withdrawing from her because of it.

George walked down the hall towards his room. By the time Angelina had followed, he was getting a clean towel.

"Starting your search this instant, are you?" Angelina asked him lightly as he pulled his shirt off.

"It's a perfectly good a time to start as any. I'll be back by mid day," he said as he brushed past her in his doorway and went to the bathroom. "And if you don't at least try the breakfast I made you, I'll never cook for you again," he called out over his shoulder before shutting the door.

When Angelina heard the shower running, she wandered slowly back to the kitchen. She sat down slowly, dazed and slightly sad. Hestia jumped into her lap and settled herself right away, purring loudly.

Angelina didn't really feel like eating.

*****

George didn't return to the flat until well after nine. Angelina had been fidgety all day long, jumping at every sound, looking towards the door at every peep and whistle.

"Hullo, Georgie. Find the flat of your dreams?" Angelina asked him when he'd walked in.

The smell of alcohol hit her before he'd even answered. He was pissed out of his mind. "I looked. I looked most of the day. Couldn't find a flat nice as this one though," he said, his speech slurring.

Worried, she dropped her work notebooks she was writing in and went to him, trying to steady him as he stumbled towards his room.

He jerked away from her. "Don't touch me!" he said sharply.

"George, what in Merlin's name–"

George stumbled on to his room, followed by Angelina, and without hesitation, she flipped the lights on. She gasped, seeing that George's arm was twisted in an awkward angle. It was unmistakably broken. He was cradling it, and wincing with pain.

"What the fuck have you done to yourself? What's happened to your arm?" Angelina asked shrilly. She knew her language turned foul when she was upset; it seemed like only George could stir up her emotions to the point of profanity.

"Nothing! Just piss off, Angelina!" he barked, closing his eyes and falling back into his lumpy pillows.

She rushed over to him, her heart beating like mad. She grabbed his arm, and saw that not only was his arm broken, but he was bleeding underneath his shirt.

"What the bloody hell were you doing? You told me you were looking for flats," she said, trying to stay calm as she helped him pull his shirt off. His eyes were unfocused, opening and closing.

"I was. I did. Then I stopped and went out," he said. "My arm, Angie…you're hurting it…"

"And?" Angelina prompted, touching him more gently. She inspected the wound on his chest; it was not a serious cut; it looked to be the result of a nasty hexing wound.

"You'll be angry with me if I tell you," George groaned, then turned his head to the side and vomited.

Some of it splashed onto Angelina's nightgown, but she didn't move away in disgust. She went hurriedly to the bathroom they shared and graded a towel, running it under the faucet to get it wet. She already knew what his "bar brawl" entailed.

"Was it over a girl?" she asked lightly as she pressed the washcloth to his head. She pulled her wand from her pocket and quickly charmed herself and the sheets clean. Next she went to work performing a healing charm over his wound, her mouth in a thin line as she waited for George to tell her what happened.

"I got pissed, I admit it. And she came on to me and invited me to her flat. She didn't let on she was living with her bloke. He came home and caught us. If I'd been in my right mind, I'd have been able to take the mickey out of him with one hand tied behind my back."

Angelina didn't say anything. She took his arm, holding it straight despite his sudden howl of pain, and muttered a soft, "Reparo". His arm turned fire hot before clicking into place.

"Hold on a moment," she said, going across the hall to her room and grabbing one of the small cups she kept on her desk. She went to the bathroom again, filled the cup with water from the tap, and then opened the small drawer to the left of the sink and pulled out one of her home made pain relieving remedies. She dumped the packet into the water and used her wand to stir the concoction.

"Drink this. You'll feel better," Angelina said once she'd gone back to George's room. He was nearly passed out, so she cradled his head in her lap and helped him swallow the lemon scented medicine.

"Stay with me," George pleaded, his eyes drifting close.

Why was he doing this to her? He was the one who'd wanted to move out, yet here he was, in his vulnerable state, asking her to stay.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep," Angelina said.

George turned on his side, curling up against his pillow like a child. As angry watched him, she was overwhelmed with emotions. She didn't know whether to be angry with him or pity him. Wasn't he wrong, for telling her loved her, but then going out to shag a stranger in the same day? Wasn't he wrong for telling her he was moving out, but then asking her to stay with him when he was sick?

Maybe they shouldn't become involved at all. Maybe they had the kind of love where you just couldn't make it work. Maybe too much had happened, and George would never be right again. Hell, maybe Angelina would never be right again. She hadn't lost a twin, but she'd lost a good many friends in the War. Maybe her ability to love another person was damaged somehow, same as him.

Who knew?

Despite how hurt she felt, she sighed and lay down next to him, watching his body rise and fall in time with his peaceful breathing. It was as if he'd been here with her all along. He hadn't, however. He hadn't, but despite that, Angelina knew that no matter what he did, or how many girls he shagged, her heart was, foolishly, his. It wasn't fair to her, not at all, and in the end, maybe they would just drift apart, and go their own ways. She'd heard of that happening before. Sometimes love wasn't enough, but she would hold on until that day, if it was an inevitable part of their future.

_You damn crazy lovesick girl. You need to go home, have a talk with your Mum_, she thought, sniffing as she brushed a few stray tears away**. **

Maybe love wouldn't be enough for the two of them, but it would be enough tonight, as she had every intention of keeping her word. When George began to snore lightly, she kissed his hair, smelling of smoke and night air, then went quietly back to her own room to sleep alone.

Her loneliness didn't last long, because after five minutes, Angelina felt the warm body of Hestia curling up beside her head on the pillow, where George would've been in a perfect world, but wasn't.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sunday morning.

Rainy.

Cold.

George was moody and sullen, barely saying two words to Angelina. She would have worried that he was regressing, save the fact that he consumed most of the leftover breakfast from yesterday and then made Sheppard's pie at lunch, eating most of that, too.

Angelina waited for some explanation of his behavior from last night, but didn't get one, so she went to visit Katie and her new baby. She didn't feel like going home after her visit, so she went into the Muggle London and window shopped until her feet felt numb.

George was sleeping when she returned, and Hestia was hovering around her supper dish, waiting to be fed.

Angelina fed Hestia, and then went to bed herself.

* * * * *

Monday morning.

George left for work, giving Angelina an awkward squeeze before he did. "I'll see you," he said gruffly, then Apparated from the flat.

Angelina went to work more confused than ever, but once there, was bombarded by the usual demands of her job. She had to make a presentation on Wednesday, and spent her lunch hour taking notes on everything Mr. Boggains wanted her to deliver. He was already frazzled, which meant the client must be important.

By the time she'd made it home, she was irritable and exhausted and her feet, which hadn't properly recovered from her walking the previous day, were killing her. George was waiting up for her.

"Where've you been?" he asked. "It's nearly nine–"

"I beg your pardon, but I've been working my arse off, not that it matters in the slightest to you," she replied before she could stop herself.

"Of course it matters. You're my girlfriend, aren't you?" he said.

Angelina dropped her work bag to the floor and put her hands on her hips, fuming. "Bloody hell fucking no, I'm not. You'd barely finished kissing me before you were humping yet _another_ bar trollop! This resulted in your breaking your arm, which I mended for you, in case you forgot!"

George jumped to his feet, his hands up as if defending himself from blows. "Wait a minute, I didn't shag that girl, I was nowhere close!"

"But you would have if you hadn't been caught by her boyfriend! Admit it!"

For a moment, she had a flashback of the arguments she used to have with Fred. It was happening all over again, and she began to fume, remembering how hurt and angry she'd been all those times before.

"No, you've got it all wrong. I went to her flat, yes, but-but I kept thinking about _you_ and I couldn't get into it with her. Besides, I was so pissed I wouldn't have known her snatch from a hole in the ground–"

"Oh, that's disgusting!" Angelina screamed. "Is this the way you _would_ talk to your girlfriend? Do you think that this is acceptable conversation, George? That I even want to hear this bollocks?"

"I'm telling you the truth!"

"You aren't. What man turns down sex when it's staring him in the face?"

"She wasn't naked, for God's sake. I couldn't go through with it, I'd already told her I was leaving! I was on my way out when her boyfriend came home!"

Angelina let out an exaggerated laugh. "Oh, of course, George. That's such a likely story."

"I didn't shag her! I don't want to be with anyone else but you!"

"You don't _act_ like it! If it were true, you wouldn't keep getting plastered and ending up with your mouth and your hands all over some twit! I can't go through that, I did it with Fred, and I'm not putting up with it anymore, not from you or anyone else."

"But–"

"I _won't_ let you treat me the same way! You expect me to just put up with your uncontrollable hormones and your flock of tramps hurling themselves at you just because you've got a business. I've got my own fucking money. And I'll have you know, George, that those little slags are probably just waiting get knocked up with your baby so they'll never have to work again! They're just waiting for the opportunity to just sit up in your house and spend every Galleon you earn!"

George crossed his arms over his chest, and looked her dead in her eye. "Angelina, let me tell you something about my brother. Fred liked you. A lot. But he didn't love you. Maybe in time, if you'd tolerated his philandering, he would've grown to, but at the time you were with him, he didn't. He lived for the fun of life, for a laugh. He thought it was hilarious that he asked out the girl _I_ wanted. Well, Angelina, I've always felt the same about you. I'm going through a lot right now, and I've been engaging in shoddy behavior, but my feelings haven't changed. I loved you when we were ten years old, I did when I dropped out of Hogwarts, I did when I lost my brother, and I do now."

Angelina and George had stopped arguing, and George's honest words to her made her realize exactly what was needed now– and that was total honesty. It didn't make sense to be angry anymore. The time had come for her to say what she needed to say. She told George quietly, "I believe you do care for me. And I know that I care for you, but…I don't know if things can work between us. I think too much has happened. I've changed, and you've changed. You've changed a lot, whether you realize it or not. I don't think either of us can handle the emotionally complex components of being together."

"Angelina–"

"George, you're working at a bank. A _bank_. Stiff, conservative, proper. That's not you. That's not where you belong. You don't laugh or joke anymore. You're serious, and I know you were always the more serious one, but that's not you, not all the time. It isn't. You won't talk to your family, you've completely shut them out of your life. The Weasley's live for family, that's your strength and you've turned from it. You can't give another person yourself if you don't know who 'yourself' is. Don't you see that? We can't be happy if you don't get it together, and I mean totally together."

"How fucking heartless are you, talking like that to someone who just lost a twin? Twins are supposed to be together, they have a bond that is inseparable. Well, how am I supposed to be 'together' when the other half of me has been destroyed? Ripped from me? How am I supposed to go it alone, without him?"

Angelina smiled sadly. "I don't know. But until you can answer that question, you're not ready to _really_ be with anyone. I'm sorry."

It was done. She'd been thinking of saying it for weeks, and now she had. She'd laid it all out in the open, and her heart was going to break as soon as she was in the comfort of her own room; it was already fractured. She was sure that he would despise her now, and that she had ruined everything, their friendship, their would be romance, everything. Yet what choice did she have? He needed to understand those facts, for the sake of his own happiness.

She swallowed back her tears, and stepped forward to hold him tightly, kissing him firmly against the mouth.

"I _do_ love you, Georgie," she whispered. George didn't kiss her back, or even return her embrace. He said nothing at all. When she stood back from him and looked into his eyes, she could see the fierce emotions there– a mixture of hurt and pain and anger. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again gently, her fingers brushing against his face before she moved away from him.

She turned to pick up her bag, and then went to her room. She left her door open a crack, because usually Hestia came to sleep on her pillow.

Hestia chose loyalty to George that night. Angelina didn't blame her, not really.

* * * * *

The next few days were hectic, as Angelina's work schedule took precedence over all the emotional turmoil she was dealing with concerning George, who was barely speaking to her. She worked well into the night up until she had to give her presentation to the Ministry on Wednesday, then spent the next several days working practically around the clock as she helped the staff prepare and ship out hundreds of orders of Wonder Sip, a potion that boosted one's energy safely for eight hours and slowly left the bloodstream each time the user went to the loo, preventing the obvious "crash" that many other energy drinks caused.

Everything was going full steam ahead with work, when one Friday afternoon, James Turpin, one of her coworkers, accidentally shipped off a box of supplies Angelina needed to create potions for an upcoming conference in Dorset.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking? I _told_ you it was the orange box four times! You've sent the crushed Dugbog claws and Essence of Murlap, and I have to have _every_ bottle in that box! I really don't need this, James, I've had an abominable two weeks!" she cried in exasperation as she rummaged through the mountain of paperwork on her desk for her wand. "Quickly, tell me where you sent it!"

"It went to that joke shop in Diagon Alley…er, Weasley Whippers…something or other. I'm sorry, Angelina, really I am. I could've sworn you said the brown box–"

Angelina had stopped listening after she'd heard where the package was headed. Why on earth would Weasley's Wizard Wheezes be taking orders from SPC? And anti-inflammatory elixirs, no less?

"Listen, I'm going to go over there and get it back. If Mr. Boggains asks where I've gone, tell him I had to hand deliver a package."

James looked relived. It was his first month at the company, and though he'd had some great ideas, he'd also been making a lot of mistakes. "Thanks for covering for me, I think one more bungle and I'd have been canned from Mr. Boggains. I'll make it up to you, Miss Johnson, I swear. Here, let me just go with you–"

"No. I'll do it. I'm the Supervisor. I'll be back shortly," she said firmly, finally getting her wand in her hands. She scooped up the large orange box.

She Apparated right to Wheezes' front door. The sign read 'Closed for Lunch', so, as she might have done before the War, Angelina simply went around to the side door. She cast a hovering charm for the box, which was quite heavy, and pressed the buzzer. She heard noises coming from inside, but no one came to the door. She knocked again, lightly. "Ron? Percy? It's Angelina. It's important," she called.

To her surprise, neither Ron nor Percy came to her call. It was George that answered the door.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Angelina asked him in shock, and if she'd been anything but brown skinned, she'd have turned pale as a ghost.

"That's a silly question, seeing as how it's the business _I_ started," George said. He was being short with her, and she understood why. She expected it, as they hadn't held a decent conversation in nearly two weeks.

She regained her composure as best she could and told him quickly, "I just came to collect a package that was delivered here on accident. It came from my company and you mustn't use the potions that were sent. The brown box is actually mine, and the ones in there are yours. So I'll just have the other, and then be on my way…"

He stepped outside and grabbed hold of the hovering box without a word, then went back inside the building. Angelina stood still for a moment, and then followed hesitantly, closing the door behind her.

_Well, he can be rude if he likes, it's not like I'm dropping by to chat him up. I do have a purpose for this visit,_ she thought.

"Ron was saying that he was running out of merchandise," Angelina said gently.

"I've been here a few times, just going through some of the things Fred and I were working on before the War. Only on their lunch breaks or after they close so they don't know I've been here," George said, sniffing.

Despite the obviously painful topic, Angelina felt a little bit of happiness at this news. "So, are you thinking about starting back here, then?"

He stiffened. "No. I told you, I'm done with this place. I feel closer to Fred when I'm here, is all. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this. Nobody else knows that I've been around. I'll stop after awhile."

"Why should you stop, if it makes you feel better?" she pressed.

"I've absolutely no intention of continuing to sneak about. I can't keep living in the past. One day I'll feel strong enough to go on with my life without all the reminiscing."

"Why would you order supplies if you're planning to stop coming here?"

"Oh, I didn't order this shite. Ron did, the git. He's trying to do what we did. I believe he thinks he's actually going to succeed in making Puking Pastilles in using these anti-inflammatory elixirs. He's fucking it all up, God love him. He'll catch on sooner or later that you need two quarters of baby dragon's droppings as a base first."

"If you know that, why wouldn't you just tell him? Or better yet, just come back and help them. They'll know that you've picked the order up. They'll know you've been here, so you might as well just meet up with them, talk to them, at least."

"D'you know how many shipments we would send and receive every day? We've got a system that takes care of all that. The deliveries go straight to the Holding Room if they've got the official Weasley Stamp on the Order Owls."

George showed her a small corner in the back of the shop, where, sure enough, the orange box sent from James was waiting, among several other packages. George switched the boxes out, and handed Angelina her orange box.

"There you are," he said, then stood, brushing his hands off, and staring at her. Angelina could have sworn that he seemed taller, a pinch happier in these familiar surroundings, despite what he'd said about being done working at Wheezes.

"You look happier," she told him.

"Maybe it's just you being here," he told her.

Angelina blushed, caught off guard by this compliment. She didn't know how to respond.

"Anyway," said George, "I won't hold you up."

Angelina nodded, turning to leave when George suddenly said, "Hey, Angie?"

"Yes?" she said, turning back towards him.

"I've been thinking…about a lot of things, actually, but as far as flats go…I don't think I'm ready to be by myself. I'm working on it, living alone, and taking care of myself and all. I'll be ready one day, sooner than you think. I won't kiss you or ask you to stay the night in my room, or try to make love to you in any way. I won't bring anyone back to the flat. But if you'd let me continue on with our arrangement, I'd be eternally grateful. Of course, if you don't feel comfortable, I'll be out by tomorrow evening. Just say the word–"

"You can stay, George. Of course you can stay," Angelina said breathlessly, thankful more than anything else that they were on speaking terms again.

George offered her a small smile, his blue eyes looking brighter than she'd seen in quite awhile. He was so handsome. His good looks were starting to show again now that he was getting rest and eating regular meals and working. It had never been a surprise to Angelina why he and Fred were such ladies' men at Hogwarts and beyond. She was mad if she thought she was the only girl drawn to George like a moth to a flame. The trick there was avoiding the burn.

She smiled back at him, pushing her thoughts of how attractive he was out of her mind. He was her friend, and most likely, would remain just that. As he healed, he would forget about his self professed love for her, and find someone else to settle down with. She had to prepare herself for that. She couldn't let him in as much as she had been. She had to stop herself while she was ahead.

"Well, thanks…I-I've got to get back to work," she said, realizing that they had just been staring at each other.

"Yeah, I do as well. I'll see you tonight, then."

"Alright. See you," Angelina said.

_Be still, my heart. Be still,_ she told herself the rest of that day, and all evening before George got back to the flat from work.

Yet that evening, when Angelina saw him, and they caught eyes and smiled gently at each other, her heart ignored her plea completely, and thumped against her chest like a wild, caged bird.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Time passed to early November, with winter roaring into the Wizarding world, bringing colder than ever winds and rain. Angelina had been working round the clock. Her business trip to Dorset was the last major thing she had on her calendar until January. She'd accepted that things would be maddening until that time, as things at work showed absolutely no sign of letting up, especially since many witches and wizards were coming down with chills, fevers and other cold related ailments.

On the "home front", George had stayed true to his word about refraining from bringing home drunk, giggling twits. Angelina couldn't be certain, but she was almost sure that he wasn't even going out of his way to date. He _did_ go out late sometimes, and she wasn't sure who he spent his extra time with, as he'd been mostly a loner since Fred had passed. For the past several weeks, however, he had been home by the time she'd returned to the flat, and had stayed there, unless one of them had needed something from the market, in which case he usually volunteered.

He'd also kept his promise about not "crossing the line" with their friendship, or whatever the hell they were supposed to be. There were a lot of looks exchanged between them, but nothing more, which both disappointed and frustrated Angelina. She knew what the looks meant from _her_ perspective, especially when she caught glimpses of him pulling a shirt down over his head, fresh from the shower, rigid stomach muscles still damp; or the way he laughed heartily when he played with Hestia, shooting little streamers from his wand for her to bat around with her paws; she found him especially sexy when he was dressed in his Muggle jeans and a jumper, especially a blue striped one he owned. It always made his eyes magnificent, almost unreal, they turned so blue.

Angelina was up thinking about George now, when she _should_ be catching up on her sleep, which she'd been deprived of for weeks now. Hestia had no problem getting her rest, as she lay curled in a tight ball on the pillow next to Angelina's.

Angelina rolled on her side, sighing, and looked at the flashing clock on her dresser, which read 1:25 a.m. There was the all too familiar sound of heavy rain pounding at the glass and onto the pavement outside her bedroom window, and where it usually would've lulled her into a deep sleep, she was unable.

She opened her bedroom door, looking down the hall towards George's room. His door was open, which meant he was not in his room. Perhaps he'd gone out to be alone. He still did that occasionally, and she didn't ask where he was headed, nor did he tell her. She tried not to think about him on top of one of the local bar maids, thinking instead that she might make some chamomile tea to help relax her enough to go to sleep. She would simply push from her mind the frantic questions popping up about where George actually was.

Angelina tugged her lavender colored robe on over her nightgown and went into the kitchen, wincing at the cold floor against her bare feet.

George was sitting at the table with his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. He was crying.

"George?" Angelina whispered, half frightened, half worried. She took a step forward, and then stopped, not knowing if he'd rather be left alone. Maybe she should turn back? If he was up this late, and was in the kitchen, he clearly didn't want her to find him. Did he?

Biting her lower lip, Angelina moved closer to him, suddenly drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She felt in every fiber of her being that he needed her; that his spirit had called to hers without words. Their connection was powerful, and had been building ever increasingly so since the first time she'd visited him after Fred's funeral.

George said nothing, didn't even move, really, but Angelina crossed the room, pulling up a chair and scooting it close to his. She put her arms around his shoulders, her fingers stroking the soft hair that curled at the base of his neck. Her heart ached for him; she missed Fred too, and sometimes she did have dreams about him still being here, but she knew her sense of loss was nothing compared to what George was feeling.

"It's not fair, is it? And there's nothing I can do to stop it from hurting. I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry," she whispered fiercely. "I know your heart is broken. I would give you mine if I could. I swear I would."

He pulled from her, squeezing the bridge of his nose with one hand, his eyes closed. "Why do you tell me such things, Angelina?" he said roughly to her.

She sat up straight, frowning in confusion. "What do you mean? I–"

"You torture me with your words. You won't let me have you, and I need you the most, out of anyone…but you refuse me. Just let me alone, don't tell me you'd give me your heart when you know you won't. You have mine, but I'll never have yours. Just let me alone, then, why don't you?" George turned his head from hers, his fists now clenched.

Angelina shook her head in disbelief. "You _have_ my heart, George. Don't you know that? You have it!"

"No, it's untrue. You don't know what to do about me because you think I've gone mad, and maybe I have. But I'm not mad about needing you. I may be changed, but I need you. I _need_ you."

"You said you didn't want to be close to anyone, but then you ask me to stay with you when you're hurt or sick. You tell me you need me, but tomorrow you'll be talking about moving out. I don't know what to think. I don't want there to be any more pain, for you or for me. I just want you to be sure, that's all I ever wanted."

"It's hopeless, then. You were right, we can't figure things out. We'll never be. I should just accept that I'll be going it alone. I'm going to lose you too, I can see that. That's why I'm here, shedding these ridiculous tears. Because I can't find the strength to say another goodbye," George said, letting out a watery sigh. He shook his head, staring down at the table.

"George–"

"No, don't. I'm sorry, I woke you up. It's late, let's just go back to our rooms and forget this happened, forget everything I fucking said–"

He made a move as if to stand when Angelina grabbed his hands and leaned forward, kissing him on the mouth. It was brief, and she pulled away slightly, looking at him. His eyes went slightly wide in surprise, and before he could do or say anything else, Angelina pulled him by the hands harder, and kissed him again. Her chair made a scraping sound against the floor of the kitchen as she rose partially from it, just long enough to climb onto George's lap, straddling him completely, her crotch pressed against his. Her legs dangled over his upper thighs, her toes barely touching the floor as she embraced George tightly, kissing him over and over, running her hands through his hair as she turned her head to press her tongue against his. He groaned, and she felt his hands slid up and grip her hips firmly. She could have come right there at the feel of his hands on her body. Sex on the kitchen chair was fine with her; she'd been working like hell, she hadn't had sex in a year and a half, and she was ready to love him, all the way.

But oh, no, he was stopping, his hands now going to her waist, pushing her back gently as he turned his face from hers. "Stop, Angelina, what the bloody hell are we doing?" George said.

"You have to know you're the one for me, the only one for me. You can have me, and not just because I saw that you were crying. I'm ready, I want this so much," Angelina whispered.

"Angie…my Angel…" George's eyes softened and he pressed his forehead to hers. "You'll regret it tomorrow. You'll wake up in the morning and hex me into the New Year. You'll accuse me of putting something in your dinner."

"Rubbish. I'll regret nothing. And we ate hours ago," Angelina said, and put her arms back around his neck, pressing her body against George's as tightly as she could. He sucked in a deep breath, and she could feel him grow aroused underneath her little nightgown. She kissed him again, and this time, his strong arms circled her tiny waist, pulling her against him even harder.

Then George stopped again, shaking his head. "Once we do this, we can't go back. You know that, don't you? That it'll change everything?"

"Promise me it will…for the better, Georgie," Angelina said softly.

"I _want_ things to get better. You've no idea how badly I do. I'll do anything. I'll promise you anything. Everything," he said, and they kissed again, desperately, as their arms went back around each other.

They stood, and Angelina thought they might go to George's room, only they didn't make it there, especially not once George pressed her against the wall of the kitchen, ripping the left strap of her nightgown as he sucked the sensitive skin of her throat. With a little sigh of pleasure, Angelina slid to the floor, and George came down with her.

She'd never think of her kitchen in the same manner again.

_A/N: If you're disappointed about the love scene, I apologize. If you're worried about what's going to happen next, don't. There are twists and turns ahead, so keep reading! And thanks for the reviews so far, you guys have been wonderful. _


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The kitchen floor didn't make for a bad first time between the two of them.

But, on the whole, George's bed was much nicer.

Now, Angelina yawned, knowing she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes open for too much longer, not with the strenuous hour of activity she'd just engaged in. Rather, _they_ had just engaged in. Their bodies had fit together like magnets; George seemed to know exactly when and where she wanted him to touch her, kiss her, squeeze her. He was just so good at making her feel good, she knew he must have lay with dozens before her. She tried not to think about the exact number.

"What is it?" George asked her, noticing the look of disdain on her face.

"Nothing," she said, not wanting to even talk about it. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers.

"I meant every word I said, Angelina," George said quietly. Angelina smiled at him, slowly stroking his face while he watched her intently. The rain created a soothing sound now, adding perfect harmony to what was left of the night.

"I know. I did too," she said.

"Do you regret it? What we've done?"

"Not at all. It was inevitable." They stopped talking to kiss each other again, Angelina's lips practically raw from his mouth against hers for so long just moments before.

"Sometimes it scares me, how I turn so full of grief that I just block everything out. I think of Fred and I just want to feel nothing. But then I'm around you, and it's as if my heart comes back to life. I don't want to block you out," George said.

"So don't," Angelina said simply, kissing him again.

"It isn't that easy, Angie. I just want to feel normal again," George told her.

"I know, darling. And you will. It'll take time. It'll take time to heal, for everyone. I understand. I'll always be here for you, whether we work out or not," Angelina said.

"Don't talk that way. Of course we'll work out."

"George, I've seen you go through hundreds of girls these past few months. I could be one of several–"

"I loved only you."

"Bollocks!"

"I know it sounds like bollocks, but it's the truth. I haven't been with anyone since the last time we argued. And I don't want to be with anyone else. I don't want to hurt you by bringing other girls around. I want you to be a part of my life, Angelina. I'm not saying that it'll be easy to get on with me, but no matter what I do, if I shout or leave dirty clothes lying about or act stubbornly…no matter that or what I've done in the past, you were always the one I wanted. You are the one I'll always want. You'll always be on my pedestal," George said.

Angelina laughed gently. "You've always had a way with words, George."

"It's important to me that you believe me," George said, kissing her. He pressed his head against hers, and she could almost feel it, the connection that they shared. How could she have denied it for so long?

"I do. But the thing is, Hestia might get jealous if you start giving me too much attention."

George chuckled. "Jealous over _you_, as she spends nearly every night in your room. She goes running to your lap when we watch those Muggle movies. Hell, I've even seen her sit by the door twitching her little tail while she waits for you to come home. Damn cat, and _I'm_ the one who saved her from eating rubbish out of the bins in Diagon Alley."

Angelina laughed.

George pulled her closer against him.

Round three came soon afterwards.

*****

Sex changed things between them. They spoke differently to each other, softer, gentler. George was starting to smile more, laugh more. He brought some things home from the shop and started experimenting in his room, but he wouldn't let her see. He gained more solid weight, adding to his already athletic build. He wasn't scrawny or sick looking anymore. There was even a flush in his cheeks, like when they had been in school together.

Angelina, of course, felt more in love than ever before, and to her surprise, there were times when she even felt young and foolish, like a school girl when he smiled at her from across the room, or reached to hold her hand if they were out together somewhere.

As it happened, the two of them were doing just that on a cold day in November– walking and holding hands. And before they knew it, there they were in Diagon Alley, with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes just a few feet away.

George stopped approximately three shops from his old company, turning pale. "What did we come here for?"

Angelina looked up at him. "I don't know, darling, I was just following you. I thought you realized where we were headed."

His fingers clenched around hers, and she saw his jaw set in a thin line. She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped when she heard someone shout, "George! Angelina! Hullo!"

It was his sister, Ginny. She had just come from the front door of the shop, and was waving at the two of them, grinning excitedly. Angelina's heart beat in her chest, as she knew that George had not seen her for quite some time. She wasn't quite sure how he would handle this unexpected occurrence, but she hoped for the best, nonetheless. She started towards Ginny, but George suddenly dropped her hand, refusing to move.

"George?"

He turned on his heel, and was walking hurriedly away from his sister and the store.

"George!" Angelina said sharply. She made a motion for Ginny to wait a moment, and rushed after her boyfriend.

"Oi! What are you doing? You could at least go and speak to her! You haven't seen any of them in months!" Angelina said breathlessly from having to run to catch his long strides. She could feel her temper flaring a little. Poor Ginny, she'd looked so happy.

"No. I don't want to talk to her," he growled.

"Why? Just go back and say hello to her!"

"Just leave it, Angelina!"

"But you walked here!"

"I-I-I didn't know where I was going, I was just bloody walking!"

"Come off it, you haven't gone _that_ mad, not to know we were headed straight for Diagon Alley. For God's sake, she's your sister! They're still your family! They need you!" she shouted, grabbing his arm to stop him.

He yanked away from her so hard that she stumbled. "You shut the hell up about them! D'you hear me? What the fuck do you know about what they need?"

Angelina fumed, aware that they were having an argument in the middle of the street. Most people were trying to be polite, but some were blatantly staring.

She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice to an angry hiss. "How dare you speak to me like that, George? How _dare_ you! What do I know about what they need? I'll tell you what, you wanker. They need you. They need you to acknowledge them. To love them. To be there for them. They're a unit, and they need you to complete that unit."

"It's a fucking fantasy, a farce. The unit will never be complete. Fred is gone."

"But _you're_ still here. You're still here. Don't make them miss both of you. It isn't fair to them. I've been keeping up with them, so I know."

"Yes, well, you're not in the family, far from it, in fact, so you can't really say what's fair and what isn't, now, can you?" George retorted.

"You're absolutely despicable," Angelina snapped. She left him standing there, and went back towards Ginny, who was waiting outside the entire time.

"I apologize, Ginny. George is having such a hard time with being around you all. He walked over here, and then he lost it once he realized where we were," Angelina said. She took his little sister's arm, and they walked back into Wheezes together, out of the cold.

The shop wasn't deserted, but it hadn't nearly the customers it used to. Ron had already said that they were running low on supplies. Angelina had promised that she wouldn't let on that George had been coming to the shop when no one was around, so she couldn't very well open up the back and see what he'd been working on.

"How are things? How's Harry?" Angelina asked lightly, to change the subject and the look of hurt and wonder on Ginny's face.

"Harry? Oh, he's fine. He's been accepted to be an Auror. He's been training quite hard. That reminds me, we are having a big engagement party, you know, to celebrate Ron and Hermione and Harry and I. It's in a few weeks. I haven't yet sent out the invitations, but I'd very much love it if you could come," Ginny said.

"Of course. I can't wait. I'll write it in my planner," Angelina said.

Ginny played with her fingers, and kept stealing glances out the foggy window of the shop. "I haven't seen him in so long. You know he sent us all owls asking us not to come visit with him," Ginny said. She'd gone back to talking about George.

"I didn't know that. He's living in my flat, and I say you are welcome to come at any time," Angelina said gently.

"I wouldn't do that. He's bound to be sensitive to us. It breaks Mum's heart. We miss him," Ginny said softly. Angelina was about to hug her, when she suddenly brightened. "So, you two together, then? I'm glad. You're good for him. He probably doesn't even realize how much he needs you."

"He needs his family even more. I'm trying to get him to see that. He can be so stubborn."

"He didn't used to be. He's changed so much since Fred…" Ginny said. Now she looked down, and Angelina did embrace her.

"Hang in there, alright? We'll make it through. Fred would never have wanted everybody crying all the time, feeling sad over him. That helps me, when I think of him being gone," Angelina said.

"I know. You're right. Thank you," Ginny whispered, and wiped her eyes.

Percy came over to Angelina, greeting her in the usual fashion of kissing her cheek on both sides.

"Good to see you. I saw Ginny rush out. I was expecting it was Harry."

"It was George. He was here a minute ago with Angelina, but he ran off when I called him," Ginny said with a sigh.

"Ah, damn him. Well, he'll no doubt be coming around once we put the 'For Sale' sign up. We're out of Pygmy Puffs, and they were our top seller. We've been trying to recreate them upstairs, but it's been a disaster, quite frankly. Bits of fluff everywhere, we simply can't get them to stop exploding. We've been trying to get into the back room, but it's got a hell of a charm on it."

The door burst open just then. Percy, Ginny and Angelina turned instinctively towards the sudden cold gust of air, expecting another stranger who'd come to look over the picked at merchandise.

It was George.

He held his wand in his hand, and he looked ready to use it.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Angelina froze at the sight of George, as she was the one most accustomed to what his current expression meant- that he was in a right state, and ready to cause destruction.

"George, wait a minute–" she started, looking worried.

Before Angelina could say or do anything else, Ginny charged forward and hurled herself at her brother, throwing her arms around him and smothering him with kisses.

"You arse! Why did you ignore me?" she exclaimed. She shoved him in his chest, looking angry, but broke into a grin as she hugged him again. Percy rushed forward to embrace his brother as well. The impact of his siblings' gripping embraces caused George to drop his wand as a look of total confusion washed over his face. He winced at the pressure of Ginny's loud kisses against his cheeks. At first he stood there, arms hanging at his sides, but as Angelina watched him with a rapidly beating heart, he slowly encircled his two siblings as they chattered cheerfully, cutting each other off in their haste to speak with him.

"Why the bloody _hell_ haven't you spoken to us–"

"Thank God Angelina's been taking care of you, or we wouldn't have known what to do–"

"Oh, let's go see Mum and Dad, right away–"

George could not get a word in edgewise as Ginny squeezed him and Percy kept playfully poking and shoving him.

"OI!" George finally shouted, and both Ginny and Percy stopped short with their affections. George bent to pick up his wand.

"I need my wand to get the charm off the back door," he said gruffly. "You nearly crushed it under your heel, Gin."

Angelina smiled shyly, happiness flooding through her. He wasn't angry. His cheeks were flushed. He looked magnificent.

"What's in the back?" Ginny asked, turning around.

"Things I've been working on," he said.

"So, does this mean…"

"I'm back," George said quietly. He looked at Angelina, his eyes swelling with tears. "I'm back for good."

Angelina, Ginny and Percy all let out a celebratory whooping noise, and the few customers who had witnessed the unfolding of events applauded.

George helped Percy ring the last of the customers up while Angelina hung about, feeling slightly out of place. They _had_ just fought, after all, and though he'd given her fair warning, he'd once again hurt her feelings. He'd told her she wasn't part of the family, and now she did feel sort of like an outsider. She made a motion to Ginny, who set a box down and came over to her.

"I'll see you all later on. I'm going to let George spend some time alone with everyone. Besides, I've got to get up early in the morning," Angelina said quietly, pulling her coat on.

"No, you mustn't leave! We're going to Mum and Dad's. You have to come with us! George wouldn't be here if it weren't for you!" Ginny said indignantly.

Percy and George had heard. "You leaving, Angelina?" Percy asked.

Angelina glanced quickly at George, who now looked down. She felt a sharp pain stab at her heart. It was true, then. He didn't want her around. She cleared her throat. "Yes, I-I was telling your sister that I've got to work early. So you go on and enjoy yourselves," Angelina said briskly. She hurried out before anyone could say another word. She hadn't made it but a few steps when she heard George call her.

"Angelina, wait," he said, jogging over to her. Even the short while he had been back at Wheezes had done him good. He looked so happy. She was glad for that, and realized that even though he'd been rude to her, she couldn't stay mad at him. He was making progress. She was no one to stand in the way of that.

When he came to her, he took her hands, standing close. She looked up at him, losing herself in his cobalt eyes of blue, and found she couldn't say a word.

"I love you, Angelina. D'you know that?" he asked her quietly.

She nodded. "I love you, too."

He sucked in a deep breath. "I need to go by myself this first time. Please, don't be upset. You know I didn't mean what I said back there, I–"

"It's alright. I'm not upset. I understand."

"I don't think you'll stick around too much longer if all you do is see me having breakdowns," George said, laughing gently.

"I _was_ Quidditch Captain at Hogwarts. It'll take more than tears to scare me off," Angelina said, holding up her chin stubbornly.

George leaned down and kissed her, hard. He embraced as he did, lifting her from the ground slightly. For that moment, everything stood still; the only beings in the entire world were she and George, together, nothing coming between them. She suddenly felt in her heart that it could be like that. Forever.

"Thank you for understanding," he said.

"You're welcome. Now go," Angelina said, playfully shoving him towards the shop and his family. He grinned, leaned down and kissed her again, then turned and went back to his shop.

Angelina watched him go, feeling light as air as she did.

At home, true to what George had told her before, Hestia was laying in front of the door as if waiting on her. She arched her back and twitched her fluffy black tail when she saw Angelina.

"Come on, gal," Angelina said, scooping her up. "Let's get ready for bed, now, shall we?"

Hestia gave her consent by purring.

* * * * *

George hadn't come home by the time Angelina needed to be at work, and, though she felt anxious about what had happened when he'd gone to his parents, she didn't have the time to ponder it.

Work was the usual; half her day spent in the lab while she worked with her team on new creations and tried to avoid general mishaps, and the other half of her day spend checking over and signing off on deliveries, accepting packages from owls of all sizes and shapes, and occasionally checking in with Mr. Boggains.

"Are you all set for the conference in Dorset this weekend?" he asked her from his desk, where there sat quite a few bubbling potions.

"Yes." Angelina gagged as she caught an abrupt whiff of what was burning in one the flasks. "Are those slug secretions you're burning?"

"Precisely! Oh, few would have been able to pick out the aroma of slug secretions! I'm not worried at all about the grant we're requesting from Briggs and Coleman. You'll do just fine," Mr. Boggains said.

"Grant? You didn't tell me we were attempting to obtain a grant! I thought we were just showcasing our latest upgrade with the vision medications!" Angelia gasped. And a grant from Briggs and Coleman, no less. They were a hugely successful company of suppliers, and to earn the respect of them would be monumental. To be awarded a grant would be even more so. Angelina felt a slight headache coming on, as Mr. Boggains looked slightly confused.

"They're the only company with the funds to give us so we can expand the business. Didn't I mention that to you?"

"No, Sir, you did not."

"Ah, well, no matter. As I said, I have full confidence in you, Angelina. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe this last vial is ready." Mr. Boggains grabbed a pair of thick rubber gloves and slid his safety goggles over his round face.

Angelina left his office feeling overwhelmed, and not just because Mr. Boggains was experimenting yet again in his office. (He'd blown up seven office spaces since she'd worked for him.) Her anxiety was kicking in because she'd had no idea that such a large task lay before her. True, she hadn't a problem talking in front of others or asserting herself, but requesting a grant was quite a lot of pressure to put on someone, especially when that someone just found out four days before the event was to take place.

"I'll never be ready in time!" she hissed to herself in a panic.

"Sorry?" James asked. He'd been walking in the opposite direction.

"I was talking to myself," Angelina said, shaking her head.

"Is everything alright? You look upset," he said, offering a small, sympathetic smile.

"As a matter of fact, it's not. I've just learned that I'm expected to talk my way into getting a grant from one of England's most profitable companies in Dorset on _Friday_," Angelina said.

"Which company?" James asked.

"Briggs and Coleman!"

James made a whistling noise, which infuriated Angelina.

"I'm well aware that it'll be the challenge of my life, Mr. Turpin–"

"Please, call me James. You–"

"Well, _James_, you have a good evening. Unlike you, I've got loads to do before I'm able to go home. So if you'll _excuse_ me…" she snapped, stalking off towards the lab, glancing at the clock as she did.

Damn. It was already a quarter to six. It looked as if she'd be pulling another twelve hour day.

As Angelina pulled her works in progress to the front table, she tapped her wand against her head, muttering a quick spell that gently arranged her long, curly hair up and off of her face, and into a knot on top of her head. She grabbed her quill, and started to make notes on her tablet, but her quill snapped in half. Huffing in disgust, she hurled the broken pieces to the floor and looked frantically around for another quill.

Just her luck; there were none to be found. "This is ridiculous! Where the hell are all the quills around here?"

Angelina went to the back storage room and threw open the door, turning on the lights. She grabbed a long quill from the holder she saw on a table and came back out to the lab to find James there, pulling on his lab coat.

"What do you think you're you doing?" she demanded.

"Helping you. Just tell me what you need me to do," he replied.

"I can handle it. You go home," she said, wishing she could accept his offer, because it would help her call it a night sooner, but it wouldn't be right. Besides, James could be careless. He'd proven that before.

"You think I'm incompetent, don't you?" he said with smirk.

Angelina faltered, blushing in her embarrassment of his accurate assessment. "No, it's not that, it's just–"

"I know, I've made mistakes. I've had some personal things going on…been going through a separation. I haven't had any major malfunctions in weeks. Check my evaluation report. I'm telling you the truth," he said.

"I'm not accusing you of lying," Angelina answered. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "I'm sorry about your split. I really am, but I've got loads to do, and I'm wasting time just standing around–"

James reached out and pulled the record sheets towards him. "It says that all vials of cockatrice egg mixture should be tested after they're reheated. We could use beakers to be safe, but it would work faster if we used the fire cauldron."

He seemed determined to help. It felt a little strange working after hours with James, but the sooner she got out of here, the sooner she could get back to George, and find out what had happened at his parent's house.

Angelina smoothed her hands over her lab coat, and went into Supervisor mode. "We'll have to be very careful working with higher potion amounts. I'll document the color change at the moment it turns. It has to be _exact_–"

"Yes, I know. It should take about eight minutes. I've worked with the cockatrice before, from the beak to the feather, and everything in between," James said.

True to James' word, the unpleasant smelling mixture did turn at precisely eight minutes, going from brown to a liquid gold. It was quite an amazing change, for at the moment of color change, the smell went from being unpleasant to a light, buttery smell.

"Quickly! We've got to remove it from the heat while it's gold!" Angelina exclaimed. She and James both reached for the pot handle at the same time, his fingers covering hers accidentally. She let go, embarrassed, and the pot swung dangerously in James' hands, threatening to fall to the ground. She gasped.

"I've got it," he said calmly. Angelina watched him set the large pot down on the table, then handed her a ladle. He was very confident in the way he maneuvered, and Angelina was impressed.

They worked quickly together, and Angelina was pleasantly surprised to see that they were finished by half past eight. She had anticipated well after ten o'clock before she'd be going home.

"It's finished. Thank you so much. I'd have been camping out in my office if you hadn't stayed behind to help me," Angelina told James as they finished labeling the last crate of mixtures. James waited for Angelina to put the mixtures in the lab cooler before he shut the lights off to the lab. Angelina closed the door and locked it.

They walked towards the front of the building, not saying very much to each other. At the door, Angelina hesitated for a moment before she said quickly, "I should apologize for being rude to your earlier. You've no idea the pressure I've got on me for this Friday."

"I can imagine. But, you aren't a Supervisor for nothing. If you like, I could go with you, as your assistant. I'm sure you'd need help unloading everything and getting your paperwork together for the presentation. You'd have to clear it with Mr. Boggains, of course, but I'm sure he wouldn't object."

Angelina looked at him, noticing that up close, he wasn't bad looking at all. He had dark coloring, with large dark eyes and curly black hair. What was he being so helpful for?

"I-I don't think I need an assistant. But thank you very much," she said gently.

"Then don't worry about it. I'm sure they'll be so mesmerized by you, they'll give you anything you ask for," James said. "Especially if you wear your hair up like that."

"My hair? Are you serious? I charmed it up in seconds just to keep it off my face!" Angelina said, laughing.

"It's beautiful," James said.

Angelina's laughter faded as she now understood why James had helped her. She was flattered, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. "You know I'm seeing someone…" she said softly.

"Yes, I assumed as much. The good ones are always taken," he said.

"Well, maybe you'll work things out with you wife –"

James made a face, shaking his head. "No, that's done. It's for the best, for both of us."

"I'm sorry, James. The right one's out there somewhere. When you're not looking, that's when she'll turn up," Angelina said, trying to sound cheerful. James shrugged, then pushed the heavy doors open, a gust of icy wind hitting them.

"Merlin's beard, it's cold out here," he muttered, pulling out his wand. Turning to Angelina, he said, "I'll see you tomorrow, then, Miss Johnson."

"Angelina. And thanks again for your help," she said. She took her wand out of her bag as well.

"Goodnight, Angelina," James said with a smile. "Let me know if you change your mind about Dorset."

Angelina simply nodded, and returned his smile. "Goodnight, then."

There was the sound of two loud cracks, and they both Disapparated to their respective home locations.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Angelina stopped short when she first opened the door to her flat. It had been decorated in scented, floating candles. There was soft music playing, and from the doorway, she could see the table had been set for two with a bouquet of flowers in the center.

"Good evening, Miss Johnson," George said in a mocking formal tone. He came from around the corner, pulling his bedroom door shut and brushing off the apron he wore. He looked charming in a black jumper and matching trousers. "Sorry, had to put Hestia in my room, she kept trying to sample the main entrée."

"The main entrée?"Angelina asked, smiling. She felt her stress from work already disappearing. George took his apron off; it draped itself over the hook next to the stove.

"Yes, I've made a three course meal. I've been cooking all afternoon," George said as he helped Angelina out of her coat.

"I haven't eaten all day. I don't know what to say! Everything looks so perfect!" she exclaimed as he led her to the table. "I don't feel ready, I should put on a dress or–"

"Rubbish. You look beautiful. Sit down," George said. Angelina sat, marveling at the surroundings. George took the seat across from her. "Tell me about your day. I want to hear everything, from start to finish."

Angelina blushed. "But I want to know what happened with _your_ family."

George shrugged, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork. "We talked. There were tears, as I expected. They didn't want me to go. It still feels strange. I'm taking things one step at a time."

"Of course, darling."

"There's to be an engagement or wedding party soon…whatever the hell you call it. I think Ron and Ginny have agreed to have a double wedding, in fact. That'll give Mum something to do, at least."

"Ginny told me about the party. It sounds fun. I've never been to a double wedding before. Assuming I get invited, that is."

"Don't be silly, of course you'll get an invite. We talked quite a lot about you. They wanted to see you, especially Mum and Dad. My whole family knows I wouldn't have done a damn thing with my life except wasted away if it hadn't been for you."

Angelina smiled gently. "I can't take the credit. I think you would've been alright after awhile. Anyone in your situation would need time to grieve."

They looked at one another and George became quite serious. Angelina wondered if she'd said the wrong thing and was about to apologize when he suddenly smiled again.

"I don't want to talk about grieving or being upset or sadness. I want to thank you for being such a remarkable woman, Angelina," he said.

"I just want you to be happy–"Angelina stopped short. "For Merlin's sake, you're not _proposing_, are you?"

George laughed. "What if I was? What would you say? No?"

Angelina felt herself get hot all over. "I-I-I don't know _what_ I would say. That's completely… Can you imagine? Three weddings? Not to mention…you know…what our families would say…"

George looked confused. "Say about what?"

"Us. Being, well, mixed."

"We're not mixed. I'm white and a Pureblood and you're black and a Pureblood. Now, if we had children–"

"George, for God's sake, you know what I'm talking about!"

"My family doesn't care in the least. They adore you. They couldn't be happier that you're in my life. I've only met your family a few times, but from what I gathered, they didn't seem intolerant to white fellows with red hair to me. Are they?"

He was joking again, which would have been a good thing if they weren't discussing such a serious subject, serious to Angelina, that was. She cleared her throat, pushing her noodles around her plate with her fork. "My sister goes with a French Canadian. They've been together for ages, and he's already told me he's going to ask her for her birthday in June. I think my parents were hoping I'd end up with…someone, you know, not quite so different…"

"So your parents want you with someone black and you wouldn't marry me because I'm not?"

Angelina looked at George, sighing in her bewilderment. "I didn't say that."

"Would you marry me? Ever?"

This wasn't going well. And, truthfully, she didn't need this, not now. "Please, let's not argue. I can't possibly think about it, not after all we've been through. We love each other, and things are going well for us. That's all that matters at this point, right?"

"Of course. Don't worry, I'm not proposing. We were just talking," George said.

They ate in silence for awhile, and finally Angelina slammed her fork down. "I would. Damn you. If you asked, I would say yes. I don't care what my parents would say, or anyone else for that matter. Happy now?"

George looked at her and laughed. "I am. Not that I'm going to ask you, because I'm not. I mean, I _wouldn't_, but, I'm pleased to know that if I did, you would agree."

"So, that's settled, we don't care what anyone thinks, but this is all just hypothetical because we're not getting married, so let's talk about something else. I've got a big weekend coming up," Angelina said, and let out a deep breath.

They talked about her job, and Dorset. She told him a little about James, and how he'd offered to help her, but left out the details about how he'd showed interest. They talked about his shop, and how Ron had agreed to help him run it. He was showing Ron the ropes. They conversed until it was quite late, and the candles had become small.

"That was a perfect dinner. Better than any restaurant I've ever been to. Thank you," Angelina said as she stretched.

"I'm glad you liked it," George said.

Angelina flicked her wand and the kitchen began to clean itself. She turned to George, who was watching her, and smiled. "What is it?" she asked him tenderly.

"Your business trip. First time you won't be around since we moved in together," George said.

Angelina was charming the candles out. There was only one left, and it was by George. "Believe me, I'd _much_ rather be here with you than trying to earn telling points for money to some stuffy old men in fancy robes. At any rate, it's only three days," she said.

He nodded, standing still. He looked strange. Angelina came up to him. "My leaving is making you think about Fred, isn't it?" she said quietly.

"No," George said quickly. He wouldn't look at her.

Angelina put her hands to his face. "You mustn't be afraid of things like…people you love leaving. It's easy for me to say, I know, but believe me, if you don't try, your heart will turn. It will close on you, on me, on your family, on anyone you care for. That's no way to live. Keep your heart open. If you have to fight every day to do it, you fight. It's worth it. To be able to love and be loved is always worth it. And you have the right to be happy. I'll be back Sunday. I promise, I'll be back," Angelina whispered.

George kissed her, squeezed her tightly against him.

"Wait," Angelina giggled, putting her finger to his mouth. "Put out the candle or we'll burn the place down."

George did, and Angelina found his hands in the darkness, pulling him to her bedroom.

* * * * *

She liked for him to be on top, but George liked to see her, so she rode him. He _had_ cooked, after all. George's eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open as he thrust up, making Angelina wince as she felt every inch of him deep inside of her, stretching her, filling her to the hilt. She arched her back just a little to keep herself from coming, she was nearly there...

"Oh, stop…please, not yet…" she panted, as George had grabbed her breasts and started a rhythmic thrusting into her body, rubbing against that spot, that spot that was going to cause her to wake all the neighbors up in moments…

"Can't…I can't…" George moaned, and then she gave up, grinding her pelvis against his, taking it all, hard, fast until she gasped, then screamed in pleasure as she felt her orgasm bursting through her in a haze of colors and sweat and the faint smell of extinguished candles.

Afterwards, she lay drowsy next to him, the blankets crumpled at the base of the bed, both of them warm and exhausted.

"I wish you hadn't been with all those girls. It makes me realize that's how you must have gotten so good at shagging," she sighed, her eyes closed.

"In case it helps, I was always pissed. I hardly remember a thing. In fact, I was wondering how _you_ got so good at it," George said with a yawn.

"Oh, you'd have a laugh if I told you my record–"

"Alright, I don't want to know, Angie."

"Honestly! I can count my partners on one hand!"

"Stop it! I don't bloody care! I don't want to think about it!"

Angelina laughed, cuddling up to George. "Don't be jealous, darling. You know you're the only person who's ever won my whole heart. My knight in shining armor," she muttered.

"'Tis an honor, my lady'," George said. "I shall treasure it all my life."

Angelina leaned up, kissed him, and then lay down back in the crook of his arm, laughing softly. They fell peacefully asleep. So peacefully, in fact, that Angelina was late for work the next morning.

_A/N: I've been unbelievably busy, and I'm about to be busy again, but I'll try to add chapters when I can. I plan on taking this one all the way through to the birth of Fred and Roxanne. But that's waaaay down the line. I'm having fun with this. Oh, and for my friend who had a fit about suits vs. robes, I made sure to add that Angelina was giving her presentation to __**men wearing robes**__. Did you catch it? You know who you are, wink & smile. Please read and review! _


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

George insisted on waiting with Angelina before she caught her train out of the city to Weymouth, Dorset. Angelina would have preferred to Apparate there, but there were quite a few concoctions that she could not risk having anything happen to, so she was lugging them in a giant suitcase on wheels, along with her own suitcase with her clothing and toiletries.

"I can't _believe_ I have to travel this way. It's so inhibiting," she grumbled as she adjusted the scarf around her neck against the mid December wind.

"Cheer up, love, it's only two bags. Once you board the train you can shove them under the seat and forget about them," George said cheerfully. "The presentation will be over before you know it."

"Oh, don't even mention it! I am so nervous I could vomit right here!" Angelina hissed.

George pulled her close by her scarf and kissed her. "Well, just think about this- once you've returned, there's the engagement party for Ron and Ginny on Christmas Eve -"

"That's still two and a half weeks away, George. I've got to get through _tomorrow_."

"I know, I know, but it's something to look forward to. Then, it's Christmas. I think you'll love what I've got for you this year."

"It's just one gift, remember? That's what we agreed on," Angelina reminded him.

"Oh, yes, I remember. Just one," he said. He was putting on a brave front for her; she knew he had become quite attached to her presence. She caught a trace of sadness in his eyes, and stepped forward, leaning against his chest in an embrace.

"You'll spend some time with your family this weekend, won't you? Please don't stay at the flat by yourself," Angelina said quietly.

"Someone has to take care of Hestia," George said.

"She can take care of herself for a few hours. Even overnight, if you leave food out for her."

"We'll see, love."

Angelina dropped it. She didn't want to push him when she was about to leave for their first weekend apart in months. She stood on her tiptoes, giving George little kisses when suddenly, she heard her name being called. She stood back from George, squinting in the sun as a figure hurried up to her, pulling a rolling suitcase of his own.

"James? What on earth are _you_ doing here?" Angelina asked him, confused.

"What a relief! I thought I'd missed the train. I've brought another case of samples we're to woo the clients with. Mr. Boggains sent me. Looks as if you'll be getting an assistant after all," James said. He strode confidently to George, offering his hand. "How do you do? James Turpin."

George return the gesture, giving a quick nod. "George Weasley."

"Ahh, here she comes," James said as the sleek train let out a shrill whistle and approached the platform quickly. "I'll save you a seat inside, Angelina," James said. He turned to George with a grin. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of her."

The train chugged to a stop, letting off the usual huff of steam as it did. James disappeared inside.

"I suppose it's only right he come along. He did help me with these potions the other night," Angelina muttered. "Well, that's a little better on my nerves, at least."

George scowled. "Looks like a wanker to me."

"He's harmless, really."

"Not unless he's into taking it up the back alley."

Angelina rolled her eyes, kissing George again. "I've got to go. Spend some time with your family. I'll be back before you can blink."

George nodded, hugging her closely. "I know it's only three days, but I'll miss you. Good luck. Let me know when you've gotten settled. Don't worry about anything. You'll be brilliant."

They kissed again, hugged again, and Angelina boarded the train. She turned to wave at George through the window, but he'd already Disapparated.

* * * * *

"The hotel's bloody gorgeous," James said.

"I can't concentrate on anything until after tomorrow morning," Angelina said. "My stomach is doing flip flops."

They were walking through the lobby, having already passed the pool area, the dining hall and were nearing the lounge area, where there was a small crowd enjoying a live band.

"Angelina, are you serious? You've done this a million times," James said, putting his hand on her elbow, stopping their stroll.

"I know, but I've never had this much responsibility on my shoulders before. Whether or not Mr. Boggains owns a second company depends on me, entirely on me! He should be here to do this, he should at least have come along!"

"Bollocks! That would never have worked. He gets too nervous. You've seen him, sputtering about and perspiring like he's come down with Bubbling Boils," James said.

Angelina laughed, knowing it was true. It felt good to chuckle. "Let's get something to eat. I'm starved."

"Sounds brilliant," James said.

Over dinner, Angelina went over and over her review with James. He had to remind her to eat her food several times, but all she could manage was a few small bites. Afterwards, James wanted to listen to the live band, but Angelina knew she wouldn't be able to enjoy it.

"I'm just going to turn in. You go, though, and let me know how it is," she told him.

"It won't look very good if you are bright and alert tomorrow and I'm not. I'll turn in as well. I'm on the sixth floor. Where're you?"

"Fourth."

"I'll walk you up."

"Thank you. Be ready by 8:30. We have to present at 9:30. I'll come get you," Angelina said at her door.

"I'll be ready." He paused. "You absolutely sure you don't want to hear the band? Sure it won't help you calm down?"

"I just couldn't. I just need to lay down on the bed and go over and over what I'm going to say," Angelina said, and caught a wave of nausea in her throat.

James gave her upper arm a pat. "Try to rest, then. I'll see you in the morning."

Angelina used the Floo Fone in the hotel to ring her flat, wanting nothing more than to hear George's voice. He didn't pick up. She glanced at the clock. Nine. It wasn't that late. Perhaps he'd gone to his parent's house, as she'd suggested. She sent him an owl, telling him she was safe and that she was about to prep for the meeting tomorrow. After that, she took a bath, which calmed her considerably, and got into the bed. She thought she'd fall right asleep, but there was something about George not answering the Fone bothered her. After an hour of tossing and turning, she cast a charm over herself to clear her mind. She had more pressing issues to worry about.

* * * * *

"I'll be in there with you the whole time. We're a team, remember? Don't let them intimidate you. You're brilliant," James whispered.

They had arrived fifteen minutes early at the building where they were making their presentations. Angelina had counted at least twenty times the small jars of potions to make sure they had not forgotten a single one. Finally, James had taken the box they were in and refused to let her touch them again. Now, here they were sitting on comfortable dark chairs while waiting to go in and make their case. Angelina could not keep her leg from twitching.

"Yes. I'm brilliant," Angelina repeated, closing her eyes. "Brilliant. I'm brilliant."

"Please stop jerking your leg. It's driving me mad. Just think about ways you'd like to celebrate tonight when it's all over."

Angelina pressed her hands firmly over her legs in an attempt to hold them still. "What's the sense in that when we don't find out until tomorrow morning whether we succeeded or not?"

"Because this would have been over," James said.

"Ms. Johnson and Mr. Turpin? They will see you now," the secretary said with a polite smile.

"Oh, fuck, this is it," Angelina said quietly, swallowing back a huge lump in her throat.

James chuckled softly. "We've got it under control. Let's go get that second business."

Angelina took a deep breath, and stood, putting on her brightest smile. Together, they opened the double doors of the conference room, walking in confident and collected.

So Angelina hoped.

* * * * *

The business group was very friendly, and quite impressed with the products.

"I don't know, James. Usually when they act all chipper like that, it's a cover up for rejection," Angelina said, wringing her hands.

"Don't be such a pessimist! You were amazing back there! You explained everything perfectly!"

"You did brilliantly as well. I'm glad you were with me," Angelina said. And James had been brilliant. He was very relaxed and comfortable in front of the group, reminding her of George and the way he used to be, minus the joking. James was more serious.

"I'm glad I could come. I've always wondered how these sorts of things work. Obtaining the money for expansion and all that," James said. They boarded the trolley that would take them back to the hotel, settling comfortably in the seats. Snowflakes fluttered to the ground. The sky was quite dark. Angelina traced flakes against the cold window pane with her finger.

"I never thought about it. I don't care to own anything. It's too much of a headache," Angelina mumbled.

"You know that if you win over this grant, Mr. Boggains is going to send you here. That or he'll leave you in charge of SPC and come to Dorset himself," James said. "Either way, you're going to be up for promotion, and soon."

Angelina froze. She had honestly not thought of that. "Bollocks. I've _told_ him I don't want that title. Is that what you _really_ think?"

"Oh, we _all_ think it! Angelina, you practically run SPC as it is!"

"I don't!"

"You do. I'd be prepared for an announcement of some sort, either way, if I were you," James said with a shrug.

This worried Angelina, and she sat brooding the rest of the trolley ride back to the hotel.

"It went well, I suppose. I'm just glad it's over," Angelina said to George as she pulled off her stockings and rummaged in her trunk for her jeans. She and James were going to meet up for dinner in twenty minutes.

"I told you you'd get through it. What happens next?" George asked her.

"We're supposed to find out the results in the morning and after that, we'll be on our way home. Have you been to your parents?"

"I'm on my way there now," he responded, sounding irritated.

"Wonderful. How's Hestia–"

"What's so wonderful about it?" George snapped.

Angelina stopped at his tone, standing up. "I-I-I, just that it's your family, and I'm happy you're spending time with them, is all."

George made some kind of snorting sound, and it hit Angelina in a flash that he was drunk. Her mouth set in a thin line as she said carefully, "I'm quite sorry I brought it up if it made you upset. Clearly you're not in a good mood, and I've had a really stressful day, so I suppose it's best if we get off the Fone, hmm?"

"Fine. See you tomorrow." And with that, George disconnected.

What the fuck was his problem? She hadn't done anything wrong, she had simply been making conversation with him. Perhaps she shouldn't have asked about his family…but if they were a couple, and they loved each other, shouldn't she be able to ask about his plans for the evening? What was he being like that for?

Angelina sat frustrated on her bed when she heard a knock at her door. She could have sworn that James had said fifteen minutes!

When she opened the door, she was face to face with a giant bouquet of flowers.

"What's the meaning of this?" she said, laughing as she took them from James. He stepped into her hotel room, looking pleased with himself.

"Just a token for the most brilliant colleague ever. You were amazing. They'll be sure to give you the grant," James said.

"I wouldn't go that far. Haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'Don't count your spells before you cast them'?"

James laughed. "Let's go before the bar closes."

"Bar?" Angelina asked as she followed James out of her room and down the hall towards the elevator.

"There's another band playing at the hotel bar tonight. I love live music. I think it's the right thing to do to get our minds off that damn grant. Let's just eat and have fun," he said.

"We haven't –"

"Angelina. Eat, and have fun."

Angelina smiled. She did need to have a little fun. And she was ready to have some decent food. "Let's go."

* * * * *

The grant was approved quite early the next morning.

Once outside the building where they'd been told the news, Angelina and James hugged each other happily.

"We did it!" she shrieked.

"I told you!" James said. He swirled her around, then set her down on the ground again.

"I can't wait to tell George…"

"Don't you want to celebrate? Get dinner or something?" James said, looking disappointed. Angelina was too excited to notice. She grabbed James' hand, pulling him towards the trolley that would take them back to the hotel.

"No, I want to get back. We'll celebrate when we get back to London. Mr. Boggains will no doubt take us both out to lunch," Angelina said.

* * * * *

Angelina found George's behavior to be strange. He'd barely hugged her when she walked into the house, and was cool and detached for the remainder of the day.

"What would you like to do tonight, Georgie? There are some Muggle movies out that look like they'd be good," Angelina said to him as he tinkered with some new gadget. She admired the bulge of his arm as he tried to cram something into device. She actually was trying to get some affection tonight, as he was the person she'd wanted to be celebrating her accomplishment with.

"I'm busy," was all George said.

To her disappointment, Angelina ended up catching up on her sleep.

The next day George's behavior was exactly the same. He left to work in his shop and didn't return until well after sundown. Angelina was off work until the following morning, and she'd been hoping for some alone time with George, but she hadn't gotten a damn thing.

"Hullo," she greeted him calmly when he'd finally come back to the flat they shared. He grunted a reply and headed straight for his own room. And that was another thing; not once since she'd gotten back from Dorset had he tried to make love to her. He slept in bed with her, but didn't touch her at all. He'd barely kissed her. With a frustrated and impatient sigh, she put down the book she was reading and followed him to his room, Hestia at her heels.

"George? There's something I need to talk to you about," she started, when there came a knocking at the door. Angelina should have known that something was wrong when George froze at the sound.

"Expecting someone?" she asked him coolly.

He shook his head. "No. No one at all."

Angelina turned quickly and went to the door, her heart sinking lower and lower with each step she took. She yanked open the door.

A tall, attractive woman with dark hair and a prominent chest was standing there. She had been smiling, but her smile faded when Angelina opened the door.

"Can I help you?" Angelina demanded.

"Is…is George here?"

"George?" Angelina looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend, who had gone pale. She turned back to the woman standing in front of her, her temper flaring. "What do you want with him?"

"I'm Anika. I left some things here…on accident. I..I…I came to get them," the woman said. She seemed confused.

"Left things? What things?" Angelina whirled to face George. "What's going on? Who is this woman, George?"

"Anika is someone I met over the weekend. She just came by for a few hours Saturday, that's all. Nothing happened," George said quickly.

Anika paused, blinking. "Nothing happened? I beg your pardon, I know we were both drinking, but I know for a fact that you were all over me on this couch, George. And you didn't mention that you were living with someone. Are you his wife?"

"No, his girlfriend. Or so I thought," Angelina fumed. She realized she was gripping the doorknob handle so hard, her fingers were starting to lock on her. Her breathing was becoming restricted, like someone was putting a bag over her face. She glared at George, who wasn't saying anything. Anika looked upset as well, and crossed her arms.

"George? Where are my things? My sweater? My earrings?" Anika demanded harshly.

"In the back," George mumbled.

"Accio, sweater and earrings," Anika summoned. She caught her items quickly and turned to leave.

"Did you shag?" Angelina asked, her voice trembling with rage as tears welled in her eyes.

"We came close enough. _He_ got something out of the deal," Anika said in disgust. "He's a scum bag. He never mentioned you at all. I'm sorry. I had no idea, or I wouldn't have given him the time of day."

She left without another word, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Angelina, please let me explain myself, please let me–"

Before Angelina even realized what she was doing, she'd raced across the room and slapped George hard across the face. He didn't move to stop her as she did it again, sobbing. "You're a liar! A LIAR! You fucking arse! I can't _believe_ you would do it! Get out! Get the fuck out of my flat!" she screamed, pushing him. She shook from head to toe, hot burning tears streaming down her face. She closed her eyes to stop the spinning...

"Angelina–"

"No. I don't want to _hear_ it." She wiped her tears angrily with trembling fingers, turning on her heel. "I don't even want to _be_ here, knowing you let her suck you off in my flat. In _my_ fucking flat! I'm leaving. I don't care what you have to say, I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses anymore. I never want to look at you again. I never want to see you, _ever_ again! It's fucking over. Over!" she screamed through racking sobs.

Too upset to even get a coat, she Disapparrated.

* * * * *

Alicia wasn't home. Katie was asleep. Angelina didn't want to bother Ginny, and she didn't know Hermione well enough to go to her. So she went to the only other place she could think of where she could be heard with a sympathetic ear. She was freezing her arse off, so she hurried, her mind whirling with visions of George kissing and touching Anika. It almost made her vomit, she was so sickened by it all. What had he said to her? Who had made the first move? Probably him. And he hadn't thought of her at all. All those words he had told her…all those things he had said, all the things he had promised her… All of it had been lies.

"Angelina?" James looked so worried as he opened the door to see her standing there, shivering. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Everything is wrong! Everything!" Angelina wept, and flung herself at him.

He steadied her in strong arms, closing the door behind them.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Angelina didn't spend the night at James' house. He'd offered to let her take his room while he slept on the couch, but she refused.

In the end, she ended up returning to the flat.

George was sitting in the living room, holding his head, rocking. He looked up when she came in, and jumped up. "Angelina…" he gasped. His face was red, and even now, his eyes were glazing over with tears. He stepped towards her looking desperate. "You're home. I'm so glad you're home."

Before she could do anything, he'd raced to her, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. "Don't do it, don't leave me, please. I'm fucked up, I admit it. I don't know which end is up. But if you leave me, I swear…I'll…I'll…" he begged.

"You'll what?" She stepped out of his embrace, rubbing her arms.

George hung his head, looking dejected. "I'll become nothing. I'm nothing without you. Nothing at all."

"_How_ many times are you going to tell me this after you've messed around on me? How long is this going to go on? Until I've had enough and I ditch you for good?" Angelina retorted.

George grabbed his hair and tugged, letting out a strangled scream. "I just want Fred back! I want my old life back! I want things to be as they were! I don't understand why this happened to _me_, to my family! I don't understand it! I want to understand it and I just don't!"

He sank down to the floor. "You have no idea how many times I wish I could die, just to be with him again. Not a day goes by where I don't have that thought," George mumbled. He leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes.

"We're witches and wizards, not gods or seraphs. We're not meant to understand everything," Angelina said quietly. "Sometimes things just happen. They happen and they're awful, but you pick up the pieces and try to move forward as best you can. I swear, if there was a way I could make things right again, I would!"

"I know you would. I believe you, Angelina."

They were quiet for a few moments until George said finally, "I-I think I did it on purpose, inviting her back here. To push you away, to give me a reason to let things slip away."

"I wouldn't let you slip away, even if we were to split up."

"I know. I thank you for that," George said. His voice lowered. "I want to talk to him, I just want to see him, talk to him. Some days I accept that I can't, and some days, my whole world is dark. And I feel I deserve to be alone for the rest of eternity."

Angelina watched him for a few moments, then placed her bag on the floor and went to him. She let out a defeated sigh, scooting closer to him. "You cheated on me. It wasn't the first, and it probably won't be the last, yet, here I am, back with you. I don't know what kind of love this is."

"It _will_ be the last. I know I don't deserve it, to have you here, I don't deserve your love, and I'm shite–"

"Shutup. I'm here," Angelina whispered, kissing him. He surprised her by grabbing her close, and they tumbled over onto the floor. Angelina stroked his hair, gazing up at the overhead lights.

"I'll try to understand what you're going through, but please, if you can help it at all, don't do that to me again," Angelina said softly.

"I'm sorry, Angelina. I'm so sorry. I'm just tired…so bloody tired…."

"I am as well. I don't think I've the energy to even get off this floor," she said, yawning.

"Floor's fine…carpet's soft enough," George mumbled.

Moments later, they were sound asleep, where they stayed all night.

_A/N: Sorry so short! We're getting near the end of this tale…_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Angelina took off from work the next few days. She and George stayed in, trying to communicate their way through what had happened while she was out of town. She was working on forgiveness, which was difficult because she kept thinking of Annika showing up at their door, asking for George. She kept imagining the two of them, touching, kissing. It was hard to get past, even though he hadn't slept with the girl, thank heavens.

Then, early one morning, there came an unfamiliar black owl tapping at the window carrying a small, rolled up note. George let the bird in, and it swooped carefully around the room several times before sticking out a stocky leg towards Angelina.

_Angelina,_

_Will you _please_ tell me what's going on? I'm worried about you. What happened? Tell me you didn't take that wanker back after what he did to you. _

_James_

"What's that?" George asked.

"It's just—it's nothing. She's just…just delivering a message from SPC," Angelina said quickly, crumpling the paper up. She was due back at work today, and she needed to get ready or she would be late.

"What did you rip it up for if it's nothing?" George said suspiciously.

"It's from a friend, that's all," Angelina said. She walked quickly to her room, their room, whatever it was, for his things and her things were all mixed up together these days.

"What friend? Is it a man?"

George had followed her, and now stood blocking the doorway looking cross. Angelina sighed impatiently.

"You want to know what it says so badly? Fine. Here you are," she said, tapping the scroll gently with her wand and sending it flapping gracefully across the room to George's waiting palm. His eyes skimmed the page, and when he looked up, his face was red with anger.

"Is this the same James that you went to Dorset with? The one who was undressing you with his eyes? And he has the audacity to call me a wanker? I'll box his lights out," George spat out. "Just you wait until the next time I see him–"

"Oh, stop it George. For God's sake, he's just a friend." Angelina paused, anger bubbling up inside of her. "And you have some nerve getting jealous over James when _you_ let some tart come here and suck you off while I was away on business!"

"Oh, come on! Are you really going to keep throwing that in my face?"

"Maybe I am! And if I did every day for a year, so what? You did it!"

"I thought we agreed to just move past that. I told you I wouldn't do it again, Angelina."

"I've heard that so many times. It's getting a little old, to be honest."

George looked at her, blinking. "You don't believe a word I say. You'll never believe a word I say again, will you?"

"And I suppose I should, because your word is as good as gold, isn't it?" Angelina shouted.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Angelina said angrily, her heart clenching in her chest. She brushed by him with her clothes. "Excuse me, I've got to get ready for work."

"Have a great day," George called after her. "When you get back, I'll be gone."

Angelina stopped, whirling around. "What? What do you mean, you'll be gone?"

"You're not happy with me. I thought we were finally getting somewhere, but I was wrong. Then you went and told _him_ about our problems, got him forming his own fucked up opinions when he hasn't a clue as to what I've been through. And you're picking fights with me- it's obvious you don't care to continue in this relationship. So I'll just be on my merry way."

"I never said I wasn't happy, but I swear, being with you is like a choose-your-own-adventure game! I don't know what kind of mood you're going to be in, who you'll turn to when you lose control of yourself. I'm exhausted, George!"

George rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disgust. "You know what? I am as well."

Angelina refused to let him do this to her, make it seem as if it was her fault. "Well, if you want to leave, you do that. I don't know how to please you. I've bent over backwards trying to accommodate you, I've let you move in, I've shagged you senseless, and it's _still_ not good enough. One note from someone who I've never even come _close_ to fooling around with, and you're ready to call it quits. You're a hypocrite! And you're unfair and I don't care anymore! So just go! But remember _you_ were just crying the other night and telling me how you were nothing without me!" She was screaming again, as he'd turned furiously from her, slamming the door to the other bedroom.

Angelina wiped hot tears from her face and rushed into the bathroom, slamming it as well. She had to hurry; she didn't have time for this bullshit, not now…there was no telling how much work she had piled up on her desk…

Angelina hiccupped, fighting a total meltdown as she pulled her clothes on. She didn't understand what had just happened. George was so fucking unpredictable! How could he cry on her lap and tell her how much he needed her, how much he loved her one moment, and the next, threaten to move out and end everything? He was hot and cold, yes and then no. Was it wrong of her to be tired? It hit her suddenly, like a ton of bricks, how exhausted she felt in this moment. She had been emotionally drained since he'd come into her life. She'd tried so hard to be there for him, to love him no matter what. How could he behave this way over a silly note?

Before she left for work, she knocked on George's door.

"I'm leaving now. Will you come out?" she called. In response, she heard the sound of things crashing from the other side of the door.

Angelina performed her work duties like a robot, avoiding James nearly all day. He cornered her towards the end of her lunch break, which she had skipped because her insides felt funny. "You didn't answer me this morning. What's with you?" James asked her out of earshot of others.

"I'm fine, James, really. You wouldn't understand, he's been through a lot," she assured him before slipping away to her office and closing the door. She'd been unsettled all day, barely able to concentrate. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking since she'd left her flat. All she could think about was George, and whether or not he'd be there when she got home, how much she loved him and how much she just wanted to abandon every piece of shite on her desk and go home this instant to see if he was still there. It had been seven months they had lived together. His brother and sister's double engagement party was this weekend, Christmas was after that. It was the season of love and caring, not arguments and…break ups? No….no…

As soon as she was able, Angelina Apparated straight home to an empty flat. All of George's things, all of his furniture, everything that belonged to him was gone. He'd even taken Hestia.

"George?" she called out, only to hear the empty echo of her own voice return to her.

He'd done it; she couldn't believe he'd actually done it. He'd left her. She plopped down on her couch and burst into tears.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Fuck him," Alicia said as she handed Angelina a fresh tissue. "You should have known he wouldn't be the same after Fred was killed. Of _course_ he's not able to be in a healthy relationship. He's terrified to get close to anyone."

"But I still love him!" Angelina wailed, crying into her tissues. Damn, but she'd been an emotional wreck lately.

"Sometimes love isn't enough," Alicia said, putting a comforting arm around Angelina. "I'm sorry, Angelina. Really, I am. But you're better off. Just find a normal bloke, one who doesn't have issues. George is unstable right now. It doesn't mean that his feelings for you were false, it's just that he's not able to give you what you want right now. You or anyone else, not that there is anyone else. You shouldn't have taken him back after what he did with that last girl."

"I know!" Angelina wailed, crying harder.

Alicia rocked her. "Come on, cheer up, love. We'll fix you up with someone nice. I'll ask Richard who he knows–"

"I don't want to date anyone. I'm just going to be single for the rest of my life!"

"Well, that might not be a bad idea either. Half the time, I'm ready to box Richard's ears."

This last comment, at least, made Angelina chuckle. But more tears came soon after that.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Angelina didn't go by Wheezes, but Katie did and reported to Angelina that George was indeed still working there, but she didn't think he was living upstairs anymore because the door leading up had been sealed shut.

"There were so many people there, he couldn't possibly have noticed me," Katie assured her.

Angelina waited days, then weeks, for George to owl her, to stop by, to let her know somehow that he was sorry for what had happened, that he missed her and wanted to come back. She received the invitation to Ron and Ginny's party in the mail, and scribbled a lovely note of apology about being unable to attend. She didn't add that she and George had split, leaving him to tell his family the bad news, if he chose to even attend. As Christmas came soon after, Angelina spend her break with her family, smiling to everyone during the day and crying at night. She didn't receive so much as a card or an owl from George on Christmas day. She was heartbroken, but tried her hardest to carry on as normal. She started eating more, and though she felt dismayed when her clothing began to fit tightly, she couldn't stop stuffing her face. She had a taste for fish and chips especially, and often had it delivered to her on the job. Work took up more and more of her time, and she started spending regular nights at the office. It was sad that her office felt more like home to her than her flat did, but it was the truth. James dropped small hints that he would like to take her out, but she gently brushed him off.

Weeks turned to months, and by late January, Angelina began to accept that she and George had truly broken up, and that he was probably shagging every giggling twit who batted her eyelashes at him.

One afternoon at work, Mr. Boggains called everyone into the Board Room for a special meeting. Angelina came late, cross, her lunch of roast beef and crackers half eaten. She was starving as usual, and didn't understand why the meeting had to be now, of all things.

_Mr. Boggains, what a silly old fool,_ she thought grumpily. She had been in a horrid mood the past few days, unable to sleep properly and always having to use the ladies room. She wondered on more than one occasion if George hadn't "given" her something, since the gods only knew what he'd done and not admitted to. But he wasn't like that, was he? He'd told her he hadn't slept with another girl, and she believed him. She was doing it again, thinking about the man she had not seen or spoken to in eight weeks. Well, she wasn't too proud to go to the doctor, and if she–

"As you all know, Angelina Johnson and James Turpin did an outstanding job of earning a grant for an expansion of this company. I am here to announce that I will be relocating to Dorset to manage a sister company of SPC. In my place, I am recommending that Miss Angelina Johnson take over the position as the manager of the London branch!"

Everyone broke out into applause, turning to look at her. She was caught completely off guard by this. James had been right; he'd told her this might happen, only she hadn't thought about it again once they'd returned from their trip.

Was Mr. Boggains expecting an answer now? She swallowed thickly, feeling terrible all of the sudden for referring to him as a silly old fool. The room seemed to sway slightly.

"It's all…it's all so sudden, Mr. Boggains…I'm flattered, really, I am…"

Angelina found James' face in the crowd, and he nodded at her, as if to say, _Take it!_

"Surely you aren't turning down the opportunity to travel to foreign places? To receive a dramatic hike in pay?" Mr. Boggains said.

Damn right. What was she thinking?

Angelina smiled. "I accept. Of course. Thank you very much, Sir. I'm honored."

Another round of applause broke out, then James lunged forward and grabbed her in a big bear hug. "Congratulations, Boss. You deserve it," he said in her ear before he let her go. More hugs from coworkers followed. As a crowd formed around her to offer congratulations, Angelina felt a sudden lift in her soul. It was the first time in months that she felt happiness.

Some of her coworkers insisted on taking her out to dinner that night, which she grudgingly did. She had a great time once she got there, talking and laughing with everyone, including James, who made sure to sit right beside her. They ordered up quite a bit of food. James wanted everyone to try to Dragon Dip, which supposedly was made from the juices from the stinger of the infamous Red Tipped Squid. It was hot as fire, but delicious, especially when spread on crackers. Butterbeer and FireWhiskey was served to the table by the pitcher, and Angelina barely knew her own name as she stumbled home. James had offered to see her home, or at least a spot on his couch, but she'd insisted on returning to her own flat. She was pissed, but not so much so that she was ready to accidentally sleep with another man.

Sometime during the middle of the night, Angelina woke up feeling very sick to her stomach.

"Damn that Dragon Dip and Fire Whiskey," she grumbled as she made her way groggily to the loo. She wretched every bit of her dinner into the toilet, until there was nothing left coming up except bile. She rinsed her mouth out with water, and flushed the toilet.

Angelina clutched her stomach, hurrying back to her warm bed, and slipped underneath her covers. Just as she settled into a comfortable position, she was seized with another fit of nausea.

By morning, she was convinced that her Dip had been rotten. She dressed quickly and headed to the Tram, holding a napkin over her mouth and closing her eyes at every bump in the road. It helped with the vomiting, but as soon as she stepped off the train, she dry heaved onto the pavement.

"Oi, that's disgusting!" a teenager shouted at her, pointing.

"Piss off, I'm sick, can't you see that?" she snapped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Angelina was able to make an emergency appointment with a Dr. Stimples. He drew some of her blood, had her breathe into a thin tube, and performed some painless spells over her. Then he left the room with a promise to return shortly. He was gone for quite some time, but returned looking cheerful.

"Look, I don't mean to be discourteous, but I've got to get back to work. I've just been promoted, and I already know the celebratory dinner of Dragon Dip is the culprit here. If you please–"

"Promoted, you say? I supposed congratulations are in order on two accounts, then," Dr. Stimples said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Congratulations on your promotion and congratulations on your pregnancy!"

Angelina gasped. "Pregnancy?"

"You're approximately eight weeks along, I'd say. Most pregnant women cannot tolerate Red Tipped Squid. The alcoholic beverages didn't help with the vomiting either. You really should refrain from consuming any more alcoholic drinks until after the baby is born."

Angelina sank back down on the examining table. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"You're _pregnant_, my dear. At your age, surely you know what happens when you have unprotected intercourse. It only takes once, you know. Only once. Were you thinking it was the meal? No, no, the food wasn't bad, you just weren't able to _tolerate _it. The expected due date is, ah, let's see…here it is around October 7th. It could be a little off, but we'll be able to get a more accurate date as you go along. We'll be seeing you regularly starting next month, then, you know, just to make sure things are going well."

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, I really do wish I could chat you up, but I've got patients lined up, and time is money. If you haven't any questions, good day to you, my dear. Can you find your way out?"

Angelina nodded dumbly, and left without another word.

This was _not_ happening. This was not happening at all, this was a very bad dream. A baby coming in October, a baby whose father was someone she hadn't spoken to in three months. And now she was supposed to ring George up and tell him he was going to be a father?

No, absolutely not. She was not going to tell him a thing. She wasn't going to tell anyone a thing; she was going to make a few calls and send a few owls and do what she needed to do…

Wasn't she?

She rode to work in silence, thinking how unbelievably fucking unlucky she was.

_A/N: I sat down and started typing and this is what came out. I'm just as surprised, trust me. _


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**MAY….**

The rain came and came and would not stop. Angelina's belly was quite round, but she worked just as hard on the job so as not to have anyone pity her. James had been there for her as much as she would allow. She didn't want him thinking he could get _too_ close. She'd thought that he'd distance himself from her after she started to show, but he hadn't, and she was grateful for his friendship when he worked with materials that nauseated her or made deliveries when she was just too exhausted to do so herself. He never told anyone, he never brought it up, he just pitched in to help when he could. He even offered to go with her to her doctor's appointments, which she turned down. George should have been the one to do this, and if he wasn't available to, well, then, she'd go it alone.

She'd found out two things at her last visit: one, that she was having a girl, and two, her due date had been off. The baby was coming mid September. She had conceived back in December, which made her feel worse about the last time she'd seen George. She had been pregnant the morning they'd argued, the day he'd left her.

Angelina's family knew of her "condition" as her mother had called it, and they were not at all pleased. Partly because she was single and unmarried and partly because she refused to admit that it was George's baby. Finally, she broke down and said it was the result of a very causal fling with a friend, and that she had found out too late to get rid of it. The truth was, Angelina just didn't want to talk about George anymore. Her sister probably knew deep down that she was lying, but she played along as if she didn't and didn't press Angelina, which Angelina was most grateful for.

She'd never been so hurt in all her life over George's actions. He had not called, he had not come to see her, and he had not shown the slightest bit of concern over her well being since the time they had argued over James' owl that morning, months ago. Angelina became more and more terrified the further along she went into her pregnancy. She had long since accepted that she was going to be a single mother; she had the money to take care of herself and a baby, but _still_.

She didn't know what she would do as far as George was concerned. Part of her never wanted to tell him, not ever. She'd already planned to give the baby her last name. She'd been toying with a few first names already. She liked Bailey, and Kirsten. Julissa and Brigelyn. Roxanne and Rachel. She kept coming back to those last two, the R names.

"Tell him he's the father, for God's sake!" Katie exclaimed once when she and Angelina had ducked out of the way of Percy Weasley walking out of a market. Katie had been told only because she'd happened to Fone Angelina the same day she'd found out, before she'd gathered her wits. She'd been hysterical that evening, one of several times in her life that had been carved into her mind like forged steel.

"No! He abandoned me, and he abandoned the baby! I don't need him!" Angelina told her friend. Angelina had been avoiding the Weasley family like the bubonic plague. Thank the gods for magic, or she'd have been spotted several times. Ginny had come over to her flat twice, but Angelina hadn't answered. She'd almost broken down when George's mother had owled her and told her that she was still welcome to come by, any time she liked. Angelina had fought back tears as she wrote back a gracious thank you note, knowing that she'd never set foot in Mrs. Weasley's home again. As for her near run ins along the street, well, there was nothing like some Peruvian powder or a shot of wrackspurts to deter one's attention for a quick getaway.

"How could he abandon a child he doesn't know about? It's not right, Angelina. He deserves to know," Katie fussed.

"He broke up with me! He hasn't bothered to see how I'm doing at all, which clearly tells me that he doesn't give a damn! So I don't give a damn to let him know about _her_!" Angelina practically screeched, coming to a standstill.

Katie looked around, giving apologetic looks to the innocent bystanders. "Forgive her, she's in a highly emotional state," she said to them. Angelina rolled her eyes and popped open her umbrella as fat drops of rain began to fall from the slate gray sky.

"You promised you wouldn't tell," she reminded her through clenched teeth.

Katie ducked under the umbrella. "And I won't. But I think _you_ _should_," she grumbled.

Angelina was convinced her plan to keep George oblivious was infallible until very early one morning, as she was leaving the local park from walking a few laps, she ran almost straight into Hermione Granger, who was with Ron Weasley.

"You scared me!" Angelina gasped, which she had to do more and more often. She tried to duck off, her heart racing, but damn Hermione's friendly nature, she just _had_ to exclaim, "Angelina! How are you?"

"I think it's bloody obvious how she is," Ron said, pointing to her swollen belly.

Angelina felt faint, and fumbled in her words. "Um, I, er, I wasn't expecting to see anyone—"

"Angelina!" Hermione gasped, leaning closer. "Are you…Is it…is it _George_?"

Angelina said nothing, unable to lie. She glanced down at the ground, and wiped some sweat from her forehead. When she looked up, both Hermione and Ron were staring at her, waiting for an explanation. She held her head higher.

"It is," she admitted, shocking herself. And even in spilling the truth just then, she felt a small load lift from her conscience. "But he hasn't spoken to me since we split, so he has no earthly idea. I've managed to avoid you all until now."

"He doesn't _know_? Why haven't you told him? I can't believe you kept it a secret, especially not from Percy and Ginny and I!" Ron said. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "For heaven's sake, don't—"

"No, he's right," Angelina interrupted. "I should have let you all know. I found out entirely by accident, and I sort of…went into shock. By the time I came out of it, so much time had passed that I didn't know how to tell him. It doesn't matter now, at any rate. I'll be fine on my own, and you may tell him I said so, if you happen to mention you ran into me. Better yet, please _do_ ask him to see me. I'll give it to him straight, just so he knows, not at all because I care, and then he can continue slutting it up around London and go on as he's been doing the past few months-"

"George hasn't been slutting it up with anyone, not that I know of. All the times he's stopped by Mum and Dad's, he's been alone."

"I haven't seen him looking so serious and sad in ages. I told Ron he should check on him, but he insists on being left alone—"Hermione interjected.

Ron continued, "He told us you'd broken up, of course, but after that, he wouldn't say anything else about it. He sort of drifted around, staying with us, staying with Percy, then Bill. Finally he bought a house, just outside of London—"

"Honestly, Ron, I don't care what he's done. It doesn't matter now," Angelina repeated. She pulled her wand out, preparing to Apparate home.

"One last thing, what are you two doing here, anyway?" she asked. What she really wanted to know was _How in Merlin's name did I get caught at a quarter to six in the morning? _

"Flying lessons. Hermione's finally built up the nerve to go on a broom, only she doesn't want the park to be full of people so we came out early," Ron said with a small grin.

"I see. Well, good luck, Hermione. You've got a teacher that came a long way," Angelina said with a small smile. Ron let out a groan, "Oh, don't mention how pathetic I was when I first tried out. I've been trying my best to put that out of my mind."

Angelina left the couple at the park and returned to the comfort of her own home, trying not to think about the new information she'd received about George, but failing.

The usual rain slammed against the windows of Angelina's flat, and while it normally would have put her in a foul mood, she felt surprisingly relaxed. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she'd just finished off a small but satisfying carton of vanilla bean ice cream while wrapped in her warmest blanket, and was engrossed in a trashy romance novel complete with moving pictures. She didn't feel irritated until her doorbell chimed. She glanced at the clock, noting it wasn't terribly late. She _was_ due some order forms for work, and her assistant Juniper Allington had told her she'd send them her way. Angelina pushed herself up off the couch with a grunt and waddled to her front door to sign for her things.

It was George. He must've talked with Ron, else he wouldn't be here…

Before she could say a word, he brushed by her, coming in. He closed the door firmly, then whirled to face her, eyes wide with hurt, anger, devastation, all at once.

"I-I didn't invite you in," Angelina croaked. Her throat had gone dry.

"Why would- _How_ could you? How could you do it?" he asked her, sounding as if he were being strangled. His head shook back and forth as he lowered his gaze to her belly. Angelina instinctively covered herself with her arms. She was trembling all over, not knowing what to do or say. She opened her mouth to give George a reason, one of the thousand reasons she had for not telling him she was pregnant, but no sound came out. Angelina blinked back tears, and tried to calm her rapidly beating heart.

This was the first time she'd laid eyes on him in six months. He was so gorgeous, and she was so…swollen, filled with ice cream, not a dollop of makeup on. Her hair was in a messy ponytail. She shouldn't give a damn about how she looked to him, because it didn't matter, but suddenly, she felt disgusting…awkward, ashamed. She swallowed, pressing the back of her hand to her eyes briefly, trying to hide her tears. She couldn't stand him looking at her the way he was now, so she turned away from him.

"You…you…were just going to go on, and _not tell me_? Is it true, Angelina? Is it even mine?" he pressed her. Now she whirled back around to face him, her brown eyes burning into his blue. She found her voice then, ready to answer that question at least. Was it even his? Indeed.

"Yes, of course. It's yours, it's all yours. Who else's would it be?" Angelina spat out, her temper flaring.

George balled up his fists and let out a horrific sounding wail towards the ceiling. "Why wouldn't you _tell_ me that you were pregnant with our child? What the fuck were you thinking?" he shouted.

"Don't pretend now that you care! You know good and bloody well you don't!"

"That's bullshit, I've known you for half my life, we'd been lovers for nearly a year and you just let me walk about without knowing you were pregnant! Whether we'd broken up or not, you still should've told me! I shouldn't have had to find out from my fucking brother!"

"You _left_ me! That's why I didn't tell you, you wanker! You don't care or you wouldn't have left me! You stopped loving me! I've been alone, George, _alone_ for six months, terrified at how I'm going to manage and _all by myself_!" she screamed back at him, and burst into tears. Fearing she would give way beneath her trembling knees, she threw herself down on the couch, and turned her face from him, holding herself as best she could over her belly.

How dare he shout? How dare he ask her why?

"No…you've got it all wrong…"George was suddenly at her side, kneeling before her, his hands on her. His eyes clouded over as he looked at her. "I had my reasons for what I did…and I never meant for the separation to be permanent. But you should've told me, Angelina. Dammit, you should've told me…"

"Oh, and now here we are with your lovely, false words. Your words mean nothing, just as I said before, and you can get up and leave if you'd like. I don't need you. I don't want you here," Angelina gulped, pushing him away. "After all you've done, all you've put me through…"

"After all I've done? I bought a house…for _us_, for you and me. I haven't so much as touched another female this whole time. I've been completely celibate. I've worked myself to the bone to start a second company in Manchester. I did it all for you, for us."

"There is no us, remember? You left me."

George, in response, lay his head tenderly in her lap. He pressed his face against her, his hands on either side of her belly. Angelina could feel his heart beating against her, the furious rhythm matching her very own. She could scarcely move.

"Angelina…my Angelina…" he whispered. He looked up at her, now touching her face with gentle hands. It was now his turn to wipe her tears away, which he did, lovingly. "I was wrong for what I did and what I said. But please, believe that I had _every_ intention of coming back. I never stopped loving you, or caring about you, or thinking about you. It wasn't about that owl or your friend. It was about me, honestly. I had to be on my own for awhile. If I didn't know that I could look after myself, how would I be able to look after you?"

"I don't need you to look after me."

"And that's exactly why someone must," George said softly. He let out a sigh, and moved next to her on the couch. "I was prepared to fight for you if you had moved on with some other bloke. I needed to do this, Angelina. For myself. This will be the last time in our lives I will need to ask your forgiveness about anything, I swear it."

Angelina shook her head. "You can't just waltz back into my life and expect us to pick up where we left off. I've been promoted, SPC is my company now. I run it. I'm busier than ever. Yet I've had to manage that on top of going to the doctor and make sure things are going okay with the baby. Every appointment I've been to, every time I've been sick in the middle of the night, every visit to a nursery or interview for a nanny, I've done alone. And you really expect me to believe that things will be different?"

George grabbed her suddenly against him in a tight embrace. "If you still love me, if you never stopped, then yes."

He kissed her, her hair, her neck, her lips. She started to pull away, but couldn't in the end. He smelled so wonderful, and he was holding her so tight and she _did_ love him, more than she had loved anyone else in her life. She kissed him back, though only a little.

"I hate you," she whispered to him, her head pressed to his. "But I love you."

George let out a small smile. "It's a start, at least."

Angelina bit her lip, looking fully at him. "I'm scared," she whispered. "I don't want you to hurt me anymore."

George shook his head. "Those days, those hours, all of those bad times are over, forever. They have to be. We're having a baby. We're starting a _family_. It's fate, don't you see? It's time to heal, it's time to move forward."

"Please, let's. And let it be for real this time. Because this baby is coming in September, ready or not, George."

He kissed her hands. "Gods, I just can't believe that you're pregnant. When Ron told me, I nearly lost my shite, I mean, I literally almost passed out. I thought about what to say for hours, I was so nervous. I just kept hoping you'd be here. I'm so happy right now, I could explode. D'you know what it is yet?"

"A girl," Angelina said softly.

George let out a shout of joyous surprise. "A girl? A girl! My little girl!" he said, his voice wavering.

"I-I-I've picked out some names…Roxanne, and Julissa, and Rachel, though I…I think I like Roxanne…"

"Roxanne…That sounds just _perfect_, it's brilliant. Roxanne Weasley. My little Roxy…oh, Angelina, I can't bear it, let's get married, right now, tonight," George said, hugging her again.

"Don't be ridiculous," Angelina said.

"I was always going to ask, Angelina. I was—oh, once you see the house, you'll understand how serious I am about you, how I was before I even knew you were pregnant."

"What on earth does the house have to do with anything, George?"

"The backyard with a space for a garden, and a gliding chair on the back porch…the bedroom overlooking the city…all the things you told me once you wanted. I built a place for you and I to carry on with our work at home, an entire floor," George said. "Of course, if you chose to stay at home with the baby, that wouldn't be a problem either."

Angelina smiled. "I didn't go through all those Herbology and Care of Mythical Creatures classes at Hogwarts to stay at home. Though, I _have_ had trouble finding a suitable nanny…"

"Then it's settled. You stay at home. At least for a year," George said. "I insist. If you'd like, I'll hire a dozen house elves to assist you."

"This doesn't mean you're forgiven."

"Oh, but it does. You're adding to the Weasley family, you're part of us for the rest of your life, even if you turned down my proposal."

"Which I still might do. There's no telling what kind of husband you'd be. There's no guarantee we'd even get along after she's born. I'm already fat and swollen, I might never lose this weight-"

"I'm going to marry you, Angelina. Whether you stay a cherub or not. I love you and we're going to raise our little Roxanne together."

"I haven't decided on that name, it was just one that I liked. It's not settled yet."

"It fits. I know instinctively that Roxanne should be her name. She'll be tall and beautiful and the color of caramel. And you'll braid her hair like you wore yours when we first met. And then we'll wait a year or so and we'll have another. A boy, perhaps? And we'll-"

"George, honestly. I haven't even _had_ her yet. I've got to get through the labor, and from what I've been hearing, that'll be no stroll through the park. You know, for Merlin's sake, why are we even _talking_ about this? I've got work in the morning. You've got to go!"

"I'm not going. I'll never leave you again. We'll pack all your things this weekend. I can't wait to show you."

"George, you're giving me a headache."

And they bickered affectionately until Angelina became quite firm with George and told him she needed to get her rest. He stayed with her, rubbing her feet and sang all the nursery songs he remembered (which ended up being only three, and were quite off pitch) until she was sleeping soundly.

When Angelina woke up the next morning, George was still there. She smiled, knowing finally in her heart that he always would be.

**SOME YEARS LATER…**

"Roxanne! Fred! Get down here this instant and clean this mess up! I've told you not to play in my and your father's workroom!" Angelina said loudly, her hands on her hips. "Now, if you don't hurry and get it tidy, you're going to miss seeing your grandparents and you're going to miss dinner, and Grandma is cooking one of her three course meals!"

A young girl with a cloud of wavy auburn hair whizzed past Angelina, followed by a younger boy. They tattled on each other as they scrambled to get the contents of a box containing unfinished exploding popcorn quills back in order.

"Fred did it, Mum! He brought me the key, tucked away in his breakfast napkin!"

"You sneaky little devil!" Angelina said, swatting at her son with the shoe she was about to put on.

"Roxanne told me to get it! She said to wait until Dad had left for work, then we could go in and see what her birthday present is!" Fred exclaimed.

"I did not!" Roxanne wailed, proving her guilt.

"You did too!" Fred wailed back.

"That's enough from both of you. Roxanne, if you don't start following rules, you won't get any more Quidditch lessons from your father or me, d 'you understand?"

"Yes, Mum," Roxanne said glumly.

"Fred, _you_ won't be able to help your father with any more inventions if we can trust you to do as you're told. There's a reason we tell you not to go wandering about when we're not with you," Angelina said.

"Yes, Mum," Fred said.

Angelina handed both of her children their coats, and led her children to their waiting hover car.

"Will Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny be at Grandma's? They're so much fun, and I just love Uncle Harry's stories. Are they bringing the new baby?" Roxanne asked as the three of them settled into the car, and were whisked away.

"I don't like the new baby. He smells funny," Fred pouted, pretending to fire his toy wand at passersby in the streets below.

"Don't do that, darling, it's very rude," Angelina said to her son. To Roxanne, she said, "Yes, your cousins will both be there. We're meeting your father there as well and we're already late. It's a shame, I can't make it on time anywhere chasing after the two of you."

Fred continued to pout about his new cousin Albus while Roxanne asked her mother a thousand questions about how to properly hold a newborn. Angelina answered them in a way that would make the most sense to a seven year old.

As they pulled up at the home of Bill and Molly Weasley, Angelina could already see her husband through the window, holding a small bundle. She smiled, feeling eager to hold Harry and Ginny's new baby again herself.

"We're very lucky, you know," she told her children as she helped them out of the car. "We have such a big, loving, wonderful family."

"Nothing's better than having people around who love you, right, Mum?" Roxanne said as she slipped her small hand in Angelina's.

"That's absolutely right. There's nothing better in the world," Angelina said.

THE END

_A/N: I was always curious to know exactly how Angelina and George ended up being married with children, so here is my version of how they did just that. I wasn't sure who was born first, but I like the idea of Roxanne being older, so I kept it in. I know Angelina and George's "makeup" was a little cheesy, but, they've been through quite enough and deserve to be happy for the rest of their days. Angelina, George and I would like to thank you very much for taking the time to read their/my story. _


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